Pandemic
by Lady Lan
Summary: In the aftermath of a pandemic, a small group of survivors band together. Fighting against the undead is difficult, but living peacefully among one another is a more complicated feat entirely. [All human ensemble cast with BV, GC and other pairings] Cover art by Stupidoomdoodles
1. Bulma

One of my goals this year is to write a little every day. So, I've taken a page from the lovely _Piccolo is Green_ and am trying my hand at a "drabble-fic", of which she is the queen.

(Note: I miiiight've been watching too many Walking Dead reruns on Netflix recently.)

...

**Tearing** back a small section of curtain, Bulma Brief chanced a glance outside. Spiky pine threw jagged shade across her lawn and the outlying buildings of the Capsule Corps compound. She inhaled and let the curtain fall back into place. It was noon, when the sun was at its peak, and though it was an unusually warm spring for West City, a shiver snaked down her spine.

"What do you think?" her mother said. Her voice was sheathed in a whisper, but it carried the same volume as her regular voice. Bulma had tried to stress the point that Lurkers were attracted to sound, but to no avail.

She propped a shotgun on her shoulder and replied, "There's a CB radio in Building 3. I think I can get to it."

"Do you think…" Her mother gave an audible swallow, her hands shaking at her sides. "Do you think there's anyone else out there?"

Bulma took another peek at the lawn, her eyes narrowing on Building 3. "If we've made it, there are others. West City itself might be compromised, but there are survivors." There had to be. "We need the CB."

"Be careful, Bulma."

She almost laughed. Instead, she steadied her shotgun and started across the yard. She'd taken out most of the lab workers who had Turned days ago, but there was always a chance that new Lurkers had made their way here.

As soundlessly as possible, Bulma tiptoed across the lawn. She wasn't strong or even a very good shot, but she was smart. And she'd had some time to prepare. Eight days ago the Center for Disease Control had contacted her father for an emergency task force. He'd packed up his things in a fit of excitement, telling Bulma all about the thrilling opportunity for genetic research and experimental remedies for pandemic plagues. Bulma had watched her father, feeling a sharp pang of confusion. When she'd asked for a clear answer, he'd only said that the Turnings they were hearing about on the news - mostly in far away, outlying towns - was spreading quickly. They wanted to employ a team to find a cure.

She hadn't heard from him since. But she had secured the place, readied medical supplies, and brought out her grandfather's hunting armory because it seemed better than sitting on her hands, waiting for the inevitable.

And the inevitable did happen. In a matter of days, the plague spread to the cities. The horrifying effects snowballed and then it was too late.

Bulma leaned against the curved stucco of Building 3. She listened for something, anything, but heard only silence. With a steady breath, she pulled open the door, its creaking metal alerting any Lurkers in the area that she was there. She waited, her pulse pounding in her ears. Still there was nothing. So she entered the building, shotgun drawn, moving the weapon back and forth, back and forth like she'd seen done on all those frightening movies Yamcha took her to see, to get her close in hopes of feeling her up. The inside of the building remained largely untouched. Papers sat in neat stacks on desks. Unturned waste baskets half full of rubbish. The CB radio perched on its shelf. Bulma plucked the clunky device from the metal case and turned on her heel. And then she heard it. The pulsing alarm signalling that the gates to CC had been breached.

"Shit," she cursed. And with the radio tucked in the crook of one arm, she quickly rushed from Building 3 and out into the sunny courtyard. Her eyes flashed around the walled premises for any sign of movement. She watched a single hand grip the top of her wall, and then a second.

She raised her shotgun, but her mind raced. _How_. It would take an exceptional athlete to climb that wall. Certainly no Lurker she'd come across was capable. They were weak, slow. She followed the figure through the sights of her gun, and then nearly dropped the weapon when a familiar hairstyle peeked over the brick followed by a familiar face.

"Holy crap," she rasped. "Goku."


	2. Kame House

2.

**One** minute they were discussing the anchorwoman's breasts, the next news of the pandemic monopolized the broadcast.

The broadcast played all day, over the daytime talk shows and evening sitcoms. The purple-haired woman with the bouncing jugs reported the first few incidents with her brow puckered in mild concern. The jokes about her impressive rack were still the topic of conversation in the small seating area, ever tinged with humor.

Then the images started rolling in.

"Ho-lee-chit," Roshi squawked. Krillin dropped a plate full of sticky rice as he watched the jumpy cellphone video. The plate broke with a resounding clash. Roshi didn't look away from the screen. He wasn't even looking at the news caster's assets any longer. "That thing, it's a freaking zombie."

Yajirobe and Yamcha sat perched on an opposite sofa, mouths agape. Words had apparently failed them both.

"That's ridiculous," Oolong interjected. "There's no such thing."

"We are still not sure of how the virus is transferred, but it appears to be very dangerous and extremely contagious," Boobs McGee reported. Her brow was still puckered. Her carefully timed swallows thick with concern.

"Well, what _are _the damn things then?" Roshi questioned.

The news reports started referring to them as The Infected. They described horrific stories where whole towns were being wiped out by the plague. Of the onset fever. Said that the virus appeared to be concentrated in the brain, and that a shot to the head was the only remedy.

The five inhabitants of the island sat glued to the television, all martial arts training pushed aside for the time being. They remained isolated, with only the television set bringing in clues of the happenings of the outlying world.

Then the news reports became frantic. East City had been taken, and they warned that King Furry had employed the world's military to 'take care' of the situation.

And then the broadcasts stopped.

Oolong pounded one meaty fist against the television set, but the static remained.

Krillin and Yamcha talked in whispers, while Roshi watched on, serious for a change.

"What are we going to do?" Yajirobe spoke up. Oolong left the television on, but the static sound began to grate his nerves so he turned down the volume. Kame House was eerily silent.

Yamcha glanced out one of the small windows at the endless expanse of ocean stretching in every direction. They were alone. Isolated. Everyone he knew outside was… Well, he didn't want to think about that at the moment. "We're safe here. For now at least, we're safe."


	3. 18

Just a few more introduction chapters before our heroes and heroines meet up. I know these are short - but I promise to get things moving quickly.

3.

"**Fucking** pieces of shit," she snapped, leveling her crossbow at a Biter and watching her arrow sail through the air and land square in its brain. It had been a female, once, but 18 Gero refused to think of the monsters in terms of gender. They were all _its_ as far as she was concerned, shells of their former selves. Entirely disconnected to the people they'd once been.

Now they were mindless, rotting corpses who roamed about, reanimated by some power she didn't understand, sniffing out human flesh and blood. Reducing their cities to burning piles of ash. Creating a world that was nothing but hostility and panik.

She ran past and snatched her arrow out of the Biter's skull and turned towards her brother. 17 swiped some of his dark hair away from his face. Knife in hand, he did a careful survey of the _Foods And More! _before giving his sister a deft nod.

"Two Biters in the front and one back in the freezer section."

His twin turned up her nose as she readied another arrow in her bow. "I'll take the one out by the freezer. You get the pair and then we'll meet back up here. Nothing useless this time 17. I mean it. We can't afford to lug around a bunch of junk."

He flashed a grin before ducking off to take out the two Biters near the checkout line. Last supply run his sister had bitched endlessly about his takings. He snatched up a package of gum and slipped it into his backpack, just to piss her off.

There wasn't much to live for these days, and entertainment was hard to come by. Riling up 18 might be the only chance he'd get.

He approached the pair, one a hulky giant weighing over two hundred and seventy-five pounds. He glanced at the second figure. A wiry little thing with a missing arm. He scoffed, readied his knife, and then plunged it into the back of the smaller Biter's skull. It fell to the ground with a crowning gurgle. 17 wiped the black blood off his knife with the material of his pants before turning towards the next Biter.

With a smirk, he grabbed for his larger knife and tossed it.

"Damn," he said as the knife sailed a bit too low, sticking in the Biter's left cheek and not its eye socket as intended. "Guess I'm going to have to do this the hard way…"

Frowning, he lured the Biter to the front railing, made it twirl in circles with a few smacks of his lips in an exaggerated kiss, and then, when he had the bastard where he'd intended, 17 leaned forward and extended his foot, tripping the large Biter and watching as the shelves around them shook with the force of its fall. 17's knife clattered to the ground, but the Biter was crawling towards it. He'd have to make do with his smaller knife. Which sucked, but that's why he carried two.

Shaking his head, he leaned over and dug his knee into the Biter's back. The giant growled and squirmed beneath him. With a satisfying thud, 17 took him out with his smaller knife, watching as the Biter tensed before falling limp beneath him.

Their father had warned in his last phone call that the disease seemed to be connected to the brain. That it somehow controlled the nerve endings that moved the muscles of the body after the infected person had past.

With both walkers taken out, 17 grabbed his larger knife from the ground and sheathed it.

"What's taking so long, big brother?"

He turned to find 18 headed in his direction, crossbow against her back, knapsack brimming with supplies.

Food, he hoped. Medicine, probably. Feminine hygiene products, he rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up. We've got to get a move on."


	4. Tien

Thank you so much for the responses!

Just a note, while the original motivation to write a story where characters struggle to survive in the new world of flesh-eating, reanimated dead were somewhat inspired by the show, the relationship to The Walking Dead stops there. You definitely don't need to have seen the show to appreciate the story, and you certainly won't be receiving any spoilers to the show by reading this.

Otherwise - enjoy!

4.

**He** needed ammunition.

Food and shelter were high on his list of priorities, but he needed ammunition or he wasn't going to make it to the food or the shelter.

He checked the shells in his Judge. Four rounds lefts. _Four fucking rounds. _The place was crawling with Walkers, and he four _fucking _rounds. The shells would spray, sure, but it wouldn't help with…

"What's wrong, Tien?"

The world was falling apart around his ears. His master had tried to _eat _him alive. He'd seen some of his peers gutted. Seen more than his fair share of suicides amongst the panic. Instead of listing any one of those atrocities, he answered with calculated aloofness:

"We need ammo."

"Oh." Chiaotzu nodded. His small hands were clenched around the _katana._ He'd been a trained mercenary too, but this - whatever _this _was - wasn't boding well with him. He was afraid. Rightfully so, but Tien wasn't sure how to quell his fears. He tried a smile, but it felt tight. Forced. _Four fucking rounds_.

"We'll have to find a sporting goods store. These small towns usually have them."

"I thought we were looking for a safe house."

Tien exhaled through his nose. He scrubbed a hand over his bald head, glanced down at his clothes. They were splotched with dirt and blood. When he looked over, his small companion was looking at him, eyes shining with hope. "We won't be able to keep a house safe without any ammo."

They kept to the road, walking in the banks just off the side. It was deserted. An occasional branch snapped from somewhere in the distance, and though it was probably just a deer or calf or something harmless, it made his heart speed a fraction. It felt a bit like a death march, walking towards the inevitable, just biding their time.

"There." Tien nodded his head at the truck stop. The sign spelled out that they were out of gas - who wasn't these days, hence why they were on foot - and though the windows were boarded the front door was wide open. "They might have some bullets. At the very least we can pick up some new weapons."

"And food," Chiaotzu added.

Tien shrugged. "Sure."

They took out two of the Walkers inside the rest stop quickly. Two fucking rounds left. Tien's heart sank a fraction. But there on the wall boasted a meager armory. Most of it had been picked over, but this place hadn't been hard hit. Relatively, it was still in good shape. Chiaotzu happily loaded up on individual boxes of cereal and potato chips and protein bars, tossing them into his duffle bag. Tien reached for a box of shells when a rifle clicked to his right.

He whipped his head over and raised his gun.

A woman stood glaring at him, her eyes hard. Her hair a windswept mess held back with a bandanna. Her lips were pursed, her rifle steady.

His finger was firm on the trigger. He couldn't see Chiaotzu, but surely this woman couldn't be alone. No one made it this far on their own.

"This ammo is mine," she said. "Make one move and you're done."

Tien lowered his weapon and raised his hands in an exaggerated surrender.

"Wait. Let's use our heads here. We're both human. Are you infected?"

She shook her head. Silence settled between them.

"Then we should team up."

Her brows narrowed over sharp eyes. "I don't _team up._"

"It's not safe out there."

"No shit."

Tien chuckled. "You'd do better in a group."

"Do what better? Die? Have my flesh ripped off by Biters? Have my skull shot from behind so you can get my rifle."

Chiaotzu stepped into his line of sight. The small boy looked up at the woman and her guard eased a fraction. Chiaotzu had that effect on people.

"You're just a kid…"

His lips flexed to a smile. Outside a Walker past the window. His shadow made the trio pause, but he continued on, ambling aimlessly. Chiaotzu watched the Walker until he was out of view, then turned to the woman and said, "We've done well. Tien's a good shot. It's bad out there. Real bad. We're going to find safety."

The woman shook her head. Despite her hard edges, Tien saw a bit of vulnerability in her. Just for a second. "There's nothing out there. There's no place that's safe."

"That isn't true." And Tien wanted to flinch and the optimistic tone in Chiaotzu's high voice. He was a believer, through and through. While everything was going to shit, Chiaotzu made sure they pressed on. That they had hope.

"Fine," the woman grumbled, and then lowered her rifle. "There're only two shotguns and a handgun left, but I found some more boxes of shells behind the counter. This place wasn't ransacked like most I've come across." She tossed him the shells and stuffed a box of .22 in her pack. "I want to find a place to sleep before nightfall."

"We've been sticking just off the road."

She sighed. "Lunch."

"There are plenty of protein bars and some-"

"My _name_," she interrupted, giving the pair a sharp roll of her eyes. "My name is Lunch."

"Tien," he replied with a curt nod.

"And I'm Chiaotzu."

"There's a fence around back; probably a farm nearby."

And somehow the blonde woman became their leader. Tien loaded four extra shells into his six-shooter as he followed her up the road. The gunmetal Judge had a good, comforting weight to it, and he kept it out. Always ready. Their new companion, Lunch, kept her rifle slung over her shoulder like a woman straight from the Wild West. In different circumstance it would've been kind of… hot.

Chiaotzu walked eagerly by her side, filling her in on where they'd been and what they'd seen. She nodded when appropriate and looked back at him, occasionally, catching his eye but not saying anything. Silence filled the air around them while Chiaotzu wasn't talking. Sweat clung to his brow. His boots were muddy, his clothes filthy. He hadn't showered in days. Hadn't eaten a meal that wasn't cold or stale. Hadn't…

The little wooden cabin came into view. And he saw a figure hunched on the rooftop, gun in hand.

"Wait," Tien snapped, and both of his companions skidded to a stop. "Up there. On the roof."

"They're alive." Once again, Chiaotzu's voice was full of happiness. Of childlike hope. Tien's face fell. They'd just brought their small group of two to three. But in the end, numbers meant safety against hordes of the flesh-eating infected. It also brought on the chance that others would kill them for their food and supplies.

The figure on the roof stood up, stilling upon seeing their arrival. Their non-sluggish gait. Their weapons. And then the figure was through a dormered window and racing out the front door. They heard a voice, carrying and feminine, shouting for someone to come out.

And then there were two people headed in their direction. A young, dark-haired woman and a brawdy man at her heels. The woman's eyes were wide, her ponytail swinging behind her. Her clothes were oddly clean. A crisp linen blouse that looked as though it had been washed recently. The hulking man looked in similar condition. Certainly well-fed.

Lunch turned and shot Tien a glare. "I suppose you want to let them live, too."

He nodded, once, and the blonde woman sighed. She held onto her rifle just the same.

"Hi," the newcomer greeted with her approach. She had a pleasant face, kind and pretty, but an AR was in her hands, two extra clips were hanging from her belt. Crazy, what the plague had done to his fellow man. "I'm Chichi. This is my father, Ox."

Chiaotzu grinned eagerly and it was like the world wasn't crawling with insanity. Like they hadn't survived eight days of hell on Earth. Like his master and trainer hadn't continued towards him after he'd broken his femur in two, snapping bloody teeth in his direction.

"Is it safe here?" Lunch asked, her eyes darting around the property. It was in good shape, considering.

"We've seen the occasional Lurker, but we're still on our feet." Then the girl, Chichi, looked down at Chiaotzu and a warm smile lit her features. "You look worse for wear, little guy. What do you say we go inside and I fix you something to eat?"

Chiaotzu skipped ahead, and Tien and Lunch exchanged another long look.

"I don't trust them," Lunch whispered.

Tien sighed. "I've known you one hour. I doubt you trust anyone."

She took another meaningful glance around the property before expelling a heavy breath from her lungs. But the sun was setting, and she didn't want to be out, exposed, after dark, so she followed Chichi and Ox and Tien and Chiaotzu inside. And there were so many fucking people here but it did give her a tiny spark of hope. Because if all these people had made it, others had too.


	5. Vegeta

5.

**Black** blood pooled around his boot. He gave the Walker another swift kick to the skull for good measure. It was dead, but it never hurt to be sure.

He glanced up to find four more Walkers coming in his direction. A woman with limp brown hair. He shot her first. She teetered before falling to the ground in a heap of yellowed flesh pulled tight over jagged bones. He steadied his GSG 522, settling the sights on a Walker whose slatted ribs were exposed, the flesh of his abdomen probably eaten off before Turning. Vegeta's lips pulled into a snarl and he squeezed the trigger. The kickback was minimum, nothing he wasn't used to. He quickly did away with the last two approaching Walkers, both disgusting fucks who fell with echoing thuds. When all was still, Vegeta turned to his men.

Nappa, the large bald one was cleaning off his axe. When Vegeta had found him during the initial outbreak he had a tomahawk and the axe in his belt; he'd lost the weapon in a cluster of blood-suckers two days ago and had been in a tiff ever since.

The third member of their group, Raditz, was still hacking away at a young Walker. The little thing must've had a thick skull, because it took two swings of the machete to do him in.

"Move out," Vegeta commanded, and his men nodded obediently.

He wanted to find Nappa and Raditz guns, but this town looked to have already been ransacked. They were moving west. Central City, where they'd come from, was despoiled. He'd heard Metro East wasn't any better.

The small town they were passing through was yet another wasteland. Soot coated the streets. Abandoned cars sat in various states of neglect. The shops had been picked through, doors ajar, windows broken littering shards of glass and broken plywood onto the desolate sidewalks.

"Veg-" Nappa's voice rang through, and Vegeta turned and knocked the butt of his gun against the Walker's skull. It crumpled and withered face-up on the dirt, snapping its rotting teeth at him. Vegeta aimed his weapon low and shot a single bullet through its skull.

"I _said _move out."

"Hn." Nappa growled. "This town is a fucked. I doubt we'll find a single weapon or a scrap of food."

Vegeta ignored him. The sun was sinking below the horizon. He was tired, but he had the first watch. They'd have to find a spot to hunker down for the night. He knew the drill. Two exits, easy to block but a place that wouldn't put their backs against the wall.

And even though the two men drove him insane, Vegeta knew he'd put one hell of a task force together. All three had served together years before, not that anything from Before mattered. And tactical experience was nothing; the military had proved to be a fucking joke in the days following the outbreak. The army had been decimated, just like the rest of existence.

Raditz secured the windows of a squat little bungalow while Nappa set to find something to eat. Vegeta waited by the front door, his eyes on the empty street. Some of these houses were probably crawling with Walkers, but the dumb fucks were barely capable of walking in a straight line. As long as Vegeta and his men were prepared, there wasn't a threat.

He watched the sun complete its decent. The darkness sinking on every visible inch of space, covering the barren street in shadow. They had a stockpile of lighters, but they'd have to conserve their flames. Flint was on the list of things he was looking for, but what the fuck wasn't.

The silence was calming. It meant nothing was coming. Walkers were clunky, they didn't have the smarts to be careful. Vegeta leaned against the cool brick and, for a moment, his hard muscles relaxed.

He hated the state of this fucking planet. Hated Walkers and what they'd reduced his existence to. But he had to admit, he was pretty damn good at killing them. Most of the planet had succumbed to the plague, but he'd scoffed at the suicidal cowards and the weaklings who'd allowed themselves to be caught, to be bitten. They'd been cowardly and weak before. Served them right.

For a moment, with the calm and the silence he tried and failed to remember Before.

He knew the facts. Nappa'd had a wife. Radtiz had lived with his grandfather, was always receiving packages from his little brother. Vegeta'd had a life, too, but even though he knew these things the memories felt fuzzy. Like he'd seen them in a film instead of experiencing them firsthand. There were images but no emotions connected to them.

"It's secure," Raditz confirmed, tucking the hammer into his emergency pack and dusting his splintered hands on his pants.

"This will do for the night. Tomorrow we'll go west, find someplace with weapons."

Tomorrow. They'd lived in a time Before where they weren't always guaranteed to see the light of the next day. They'd lived through it then and they'd make it though this, too. It was simply a matter of survival.


	6. 6 Bulma

6.

**The** buildings flanking the street cast long, ominous shadows. A promise of the monsters lurking below. Bulma glanced down at the rat racing its way towards the sewer, and even though she cringed, because rats were freaking terrifying, they couldn't hold a candle to the real threat. And the fact that rats still roamed about was was comforting. Lurkers would devour anything with a pulse.

Even though the practical part of her brain assured her it was a good sign, and the street was eerily, blissfully silent, Bulma hated being out in the open. But being exposed this way was only temporary. Their fuel efficient sedan had run until the empty, and she'd rather sit in the safety of another stolen vehicle than walk. So here she was.

She shivered. The breeze licked her face, her exposed shoulders. She let her blue hair loose before retying her ponytail with shaking hands. She tiptoed a few more steps and tried her luck with the first car on the block. When she pulled on the handle, the alarm blared.

"Fuck," she cursed, knowing the flashing lights and earsplitting sirens were like ringing a dinner bell. Every Lurker within earshot would be making their way in her direction. She glanced back down the street, where Goku stood protecting her mom with nothing but a shovel. With a deep breath, she tried the next two vehicles. Bulma was about ready to smash a window when she yanked the handle of a sturdy little jeep and its door opened.

Bulma leapt inside, slamming the door closed, beyond caring about noise since the car alarm was still blaring. Biting her lower lip, Bulma pried the ignition lock out of the column with a flathead until she heard the satisfying _pop_. Then she jammed the screwdriver into the slot and turned. Figuring out how to steal cars hadn't proved a difficult task. She'd taken enough automobiles apart only put them back together in her youth. If they ran into car trouble that wasn't the pesky matter of fuel, they'd be fine.

The engine started and she sunk her foot on the gas pedal. They only had half a tank, but it was better than walking. Goku could do a run and siphon some gas later. Or she could take another car. Or, maybe, they'd get extra lucky and come across a fuel station with some gas left.

Not that she'd hold her breath for the latter. The streets were jam-packed with cars. They'd already had to turn back and find an alternate route twice because they couldn't get through. And neither her mother nor Goku was any help at reading a map.

Bulma stopped the jeep in front of Goku and her mother, who shot her twin grins. Goku jumped into the passenger's seat, running his hands on the torn cloth seats.

"Sweet ride, Bulma."

She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. She looked at Goku, his goofy grin despite the carnage that surrounded him, a shovel resting between his legs. She'd only seen his hard edge a few times, when they'd been confronted by Lurkers. Otherwise he was oddly cheerful for a world so bleak.

Bulma shook her head. "It'll hold up, but we'll need fuel at some point."

With a nod, Goku pulled the CB radio out of his backpack. Bulma shot the device a quick look before turning her attention back to the road. A few Lurkers attempted to follow the vehicle, but they were far too slow. She glanced in the rear view mirror to confirm that they'd all fallen behind before pulling out of town and onto a smaller county road. The highways were impossible to navigate, a parking lot spanning in both directions, but save a few roadblocks the smaller roads had proved navigable.

"Any luck?" she asked, because the silence was suffocating.

Goku tapped the side of the radio, watching as the lights blinked to life. He touched the walkie and repeated the message he'd been broadcasting the last few days.

"Three survivors. Heading, uh," he paused and looked to Bulma. She gave a frown at offered,

"North."

"Heading north through River City. Three survivors heading north."

He snapped the walkie back in place, and the trio listened to the radio silence. Bulma bit her lip, swerving around a parked car. She knew riding at 55 was optimal for conserving fuel, but it was tedious.

And then a booming voice cut through the static.

"We've got a little crew of five. Waiting at 554 King Road, just outside River City."

Bulma and Goku exchanged a look. The voice was loud, deep and very masculine. Intimidating, really. And who with a secure house would broadcast their location? Bulma exhaled through her nose. They were low on supplies. They needed something, someone to bring them hope. They were heading north to coast. The CDC where her father was had to be secure. And if not, if things there were like they were elsewhere, Goku's martial arts instructor lived on an island. Bulma tapped the wheel. An island surely had to be secluded enough to escape the plague.

"Let him know we're on our way," she said, injecting authority in her tone. Even if she wasn't really all that sure. Even if it was a bit hard to swallow.

"Oh goodie. Finally some company!" her mother cheered from the backseat. And Bulma frowned at her from the rear-view. If it weren't for herself and Goku, Mrs. Briefs would most certainly be dead.


	7. Goku

I moved and was without internet for a few days. However, hopefully things'll get back on track as I get settled in!

**7.**

**It **was a cute little cabin with dormers and cherry red shutters. Barely visible from the road, peeking through a cluster of mature oak trees. Bulma slowed their pilfered jeep at the iron gate and the engine lolled.

Mrs. Brief squinted at the map before looking around the deserted county road. "Is this the place?"

Bulma nodded in affirmation, though Goku noticed her eyes didn't hold the same confidence he'd grown used to. She was always barking orders, telling them what to do and when they could do it. For a woman with no martial arts or survival training, she'd been awfully efficient when faced with this strange new way of life.

She never seemed happy though. Always frowning, always serious. Even now, sitting in the jeep, staring at the cabin in the distance that looked perfectly safe to him, the weight of everything seemed resting on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Goku was kind of… enjoying himself. Besides the whole having-to-kill-Lurkers thing, it was fun. A bit like camping. He and his grandpa would go into the woods for days, hunting and fishing and playing survivalist. Goku would pretend he was off with Raditz, his brother, who was stationed in some exciting part of the world Goku would probably never get to see himself. But this, moving from one place to the next, scavenging for food, making camp fires, it was a bit like one of their wilderness campouts on steroids. It made it more exciting, even, because it felt so real.

He didn't say that he liked things out loud, of course. Bulma would most likely yell at him.

"Goku," Bulma's voice commanded. "Contact the safe house and let them know we're at the gate."

Goku got out the radio and did as asked, his eyes switching from the Lurker headed in their direction. Out here in this farm country Lurkers were few and far between. A few Lurkers were nothing. He and Bulma could take out four or five easily enough. The problem arose when they traveled in groups. A dozen or so could corner you, which was probably why Bulma was always looking for someplace safe.

So the three occupants of the jeep sat, listening as the radio static was interrupted and a voice, this time bright and feminine, said,

"Wait by the gate. We'll meet you there."

After a few moments, three figures approached. Two women, both carrying guns, trailing a tall man. The early afternoon sun glistened off his bald head. Bulma opened the driver's side door and Goku quickly followed suit.

One of the women stopped short of the gate, her blonde hair badly wind blown around her face. Her arms were crossed and her face pinched in distrust. Goku snapped his gaze to the second woman. An equally frowning, petite Asian. Probably only a year or two younger than himself. The man was the only one not glaring at him, so Goku concentrated on him.

"I'm Goku," he greeted.

"Tien," the man replied. The women flanking him kept their lips bit together. Their expressions didn't soften and no name betrayed them. Goku turned to find Bulma also frowning. He wanted to roll his eyes.

"This is Bulma and…" his voice trailed. He wasn't sure what Bulma's moms name was, so he settled with, "Mrs. Brief."

"You're traveling by car?" Tien asked, his gaze flicking to the jeep still thrumming. Goku turned to find the Lurker was close. He should take care of it soon.

"We are," Bulma interjected. "But the main roads are at a standstill. It's getting impossible to get through the further east we go."

The bald man, Tien, nodded. "Look, I'm sure you understand why we haven't opened the gate just yet. You have weapons."

Bulma glanced at her shotgun and Goku's shovel. "It's the only way to survive out here."

Tien exhaled through his nose. "You can come in for a bit, but this can't be a permanent situation."

"We can help," Bulma offered. Goku caught a bit of desperation crack her voice. "I'm good at supply runs. Goku's dynamite with that shovel of his. We can pull our weight."

Tien looked back to the Asian woman and one corner of her mouth lifted into a soft grin.

"We let you two in," she said. "And we could use a few more faces around here. I'm Chichi." And with that, she stepped forward and unlocked the gate. Sliding it open, she inclined her head. Bulma moved quickly, hopping in the cab and pulling the jeep inside. Chichi and Tien closed the gate and did the lock behind her. The Lurker from the road was close now. Snarling and snapping its teeth from the opposite side of the metal fence.

Bulma stepped forward and drove her knife through his skull. The Lurker fell to the ground in a lifeless heap and Bulma quickly wiped her knife off on her pants. A shiver betrayed her spine and, for the first time in ages, she felt a bit of … relief. The cabin seemed well guarded. An iron gate circling its perimeter, it was nestled in an area with a relatively sparse population. It seemed untouched despite the chaos outside.

Even if it was only temporary, Bulma decided she could maybe even manage a decent night's sleep tonight.

Once inside, Chichi introduced the new trio to her father, who was probably the booming, intimidating voice they'd heard on the CB earlier that day. Ox, it turned out, was hardly intimidating. Instead he was jolly and friendly and smiled at them in greeting.

He offered them food and blankets, and Bulma almost leapt with joy at the mention of a shower.

"It's just tied to our well. No hot water though, unfortunately. The water heater was electric, and… Well, that's all seemed to have gone down."

Some of Bulma's excitement dwindled, but she figured given a bit of time and some proper tools, she could rig something up. But this was only temporary, she reminded herself, running her fingers through her wet, tangled hair. She only glanced down once at the drain the filthy water made her cringe. And even if Ox had offered something permanent, that wasn't the plan. They were headed to Kame House. She soaked her hair in conditioner and breathed in the scent of lavender and vanilla. She wanted to cry a bit.

After drying herself with a clean towel and changing clothes, Bulma joined the group around a large farm-style table. Her mother was shelling peas at the sink, laughing with Ox and a small boy. Goku and Tien were talking in hushed whispers by a boarded window in the sitting area.

Bulma's hair was still wet and for the first time in weeks she felt… clean. Rested. At peace.

The blonde woman was seated at the table, her rifle propped against the chair at her left. Bulma realized she hadn't yet learned her name. Though everyone else seemed to trust them, she was smart enough to realize that friends didn't come easily. Not anymore.

In a world where supplies were hard to come by, it wasn't easy to be too trusting. Bulma's mother announced that dinner was ready, and the group of eight sat around the table, eating a hot meal. Goku devoured more than his portion, but no one seemed to mind.

"How's the road?" Ox asked.

Bulma's fork hovered a few inches from her lips. Had Ox really not been out of his cabin in weeks? "The road is… about as bad as you'd expect. We haven't seen a friendly face since we left West City."

"Where were you heading?" Tien asked.

Bulma and Goku exchange a glance. They hadn't given her a reason not to trust them. In fact, they could, and probably should, have left them locked on the other side of that iron gate. Bulma swallowed a mouthful of food before replying,

"There's an island we know about. It's isolated, the inhabitants are friendly. It should be safe. All we know about the pandemic is that it seems to have started in the mountains, and it's transferred by the exchange of bodily fluids. Blood or saliva through a Lurker biting you, usually. Beyond that, we're just guessing."

"I don't care how it starts," the blonde said. "All I want to know is how to stop it."

"My father was called to the CDC. They're stationed near the coast, on the way to the island. I don't know if they're still working, but if they are they've got to be close to finding a cure. Or at least a vaccine or… something." Her father was brilliant. He'd never come across a problem he couldn't solve, an issue he couldn't fix. Despite all his faults, Dr. Breif was certainly capable.

"What about the brain?" Chichi asked.

Goku frowned. "What about it?"

"Well, it seems to be concentrated in the brain. Damaging their heads seems to be the only way to stop them."

"Yeah. It's like they're able to be reanimated by something in the brain. So the remedy should be chemical. But I think on an island, with its inhabitants isolated, it should be untouched. It's lovely here, and safe for the time being, but it wouldn't be as safe as, say… an island."

"No. It's plenty safe here," the blonde said.

Ox smiled affably. "What Lunch means is, we've had a good run here. It's protected. We don't want to risk ourselves out on the road."

Bulma and Goku exchanged a nod.

"Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight," Mrs. Briefs said. "Stop talking about death and brains and enjoy your dinners."


	8. 8 18

**8. **

**With **a single motion, 17 unfurled the sleeping bag on the damp grass. Little beads of dew clung to the black material but he didn't care. Sleep was in his near future and he was unable to think beyond that. His sister sat a few yards away, elbows resting on bent knees. She had her crossbow propped against her side and a perturbed look etched on her features. 18 had never been a sunny person, but given the recent turn of events she'd settled into a perpetual state of irritation.

17 burrowed into the flannel sleeping bag, settling his arms behind his head. When he closed his eyes, blocking out the canopy of too-bright stars, he tried and failed to turn off the world around him. Every noise snapped his muscles to attention. The cracking of a branch. The hum of a distant cicada. His sister cocking her bow, rustling her arrows.

After what felt like a century, he succombed to sleep, only to have his eyes snap open at the sound of 18's voice.

"Up," she hissed.

One eye cracked open. What it his shift already? He frowned. And then his eyes slowly began to adjust to the dark. His ears, however, didn't have to catch up.

_Walkers_.

He knew the gurgling moan anywhere. 17 was on his feet, knife in hand, sleep forgotten.

"There're too many of them," his sister murmured. Her crossbow was steady, her eyes a steely blue. They took a few tandem steps backward. But they were swamped.

"We're going to have to make a run for it."

She nodded. And without another word, they were on foot. Steady, pounding footsteps on damp leaves. Each time 18 turned, it seemed the horde was growing. They didn't talk. Didn't make eye contact. Just pushed forward. Prolonging death.

Her legs burned. Her neck slick and cool with sweat. The bow was heavy, and each time she chanced a glance back the Walkers seemed closer. There were only eight arrows left in her satchel; she'd only lost two in the weeks since the plague had spread. However, if she shot now there was no turning back. No retrieving any arrow, there were too many of them. If she shot she'd be left without a weapon. Defenseless. The sweat broke out on her upper lip, the tang of salt heavy on her tongue.

And then up ahead she spotted a cabin. She looked to 17 for the first time and they exchanged a nod.

The cabin door opened easily enough. 17 leaned his body weight against the door, but the horde of Walkers pressed against the thick wood.

"I can't hold them off forever…"

18 glanced around the cabin. Looking for something, anything. She'd never seen so many Walkers in one go. They were…

"18. What the _fuck _are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know." She looked to the back exit. "We could try… slipping out."

He shot her an impassive glare.

She frowned. "Got a better idea?"

After a moment's pause, 17 inclined his head towards the rear door. Bow in hand, ready, she padded across the creaky wood floor. When she was a few feet away, the door swung open and three figures entered.

She shot the first in the head, but he dodged with a curse. 18 froze. 17 froze. The hulking man with wild, raven hair froze.

Man. Her heartbeat picked up a notch. _Man_. Not Walker. Not flesh-eating, death moaning Walker, but a man.

"What the _fuck_," the stranger shouted, his eyes flashing from her shocked features to the arrow now lodged in the cabin door.

"How many are that way?" 17 asked, his back was firm against the front door. The Walkers were clunky, no good at opening doors.

"At least two dozen, maybe three," one of the men replied. It wasn't the big one with the crazy hair, though. He was busy alternating his glare between 18 and the arrow protruding from the cabin wall.

17 sighed. "We've got at least that many this way."

"Dammit," one of the men snapped.

And so, begrudgingly, the five moved in quiet peace. The large, bald one helped 18 bolt the door. The short angriest looking one patrolled the perimeter. The only windows were high, too high for Walkers to climb. 17 held the second door closed with his back while the big one his sister had almost shot secured it.

Then they waited. In silence, listening to the thumping and the gurgling going on outside. Their scent wasn't as strong and Walkers were dumb as rocks, basal instincts with no memory. Members of the hoard began to disperse. Some still tumped and knocked against the wooden cabin, fingernails digging into pine, searching for purchase.

The night was long. 18 didn't like hiding out, being holed up in the stuffy box. She and her brother always slept in the open, outside and in shifts. And these newcomers made her… uncomfortable.

"Hey blondy," the thick bald one said. One of his brows was cocked, a smile marred his features. "What's your name?"

Instead of answering, she glared. Hard.

The bald man laughed. "I'm not gonna bite, sweetheart."

"Shut up, Nappa," the equally burly man cut in. Though his smile was a touch kinder. 18 turned her glare on him, too. He was something, though, she had to admit. No one had dogged an arrow from her in, well, she couldn't think of a time. "I'm Raditz," he said.

18 didn't move her glare. "And the short one?"

The one who introduced himself as Raditz stilled. With an uncertain glance, he turned to the dark haired man still patrolling the cabin, moving methodically, looking for a weakness. When he didn't seem to paying them any attention, Raditz said,

"He's Vegeta."

"Your leader," 18 said.

"Of sorts."

Once again silence engulfed the interior of the cabin. Outdoors, the thumping of things in the night never settled.

"By morning we should be able to exit and take care of the Walkers left," Vegeta said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

17 nodded at the other man. "A few dozen Walkers in the light of day shouldn't be an issue."

Vegeta only frowned and made his way to one corner of the cabin, resting his back against the wall and crossing his arms. It didn't escape 18 that he was the only person with a gun. And a semiautomatic rifle at that. Her bow was good against Walkers, but she didn't want to go toe-to-toe against him. Not now.

"So." Raditz was once again watching her with a wolfish grin. "Your names?" 

"17 and 18."

He blinked.

18 shrugged. "Our father was… eccentric."

"Insane," 17 offered.

"Probably, but he was also prepared." In fact, he'd thought there was going to be some sort of nuclear fallout. He'd taken extra measures to keep his children prepared. Well versed in weapons and martial arts. Instilling in them preparedness of the inevitable. Everyone had thought him crazed. If by some miracle he was still out there, he was probably boasting.

She and 17 took the corner opposite the three strangers. 17 laid down and took his sleeping shift sans cozy sleeping bag while his sister sat cross legged on the floor, eyes closed but listening to the hushed whispers of the trio of men across the room.

"What're we going to do about the wonder twins?" Nappa asked.

Obviously he was talking to Vegeta, who didn't respond. Not wanting to cock open an eye, 18 figured he'd probably only shrugged. Maybe he was smarter than his counterparts. Surely he knew she could hear them...

WIth a bit of urgency, Raditz said, "We can team up. They're obviously capable if they've made it this far."

"Nonsense. We set out for weapons and lookie there, the girl has a weapon. Her brother probably does too."

Finally 18 cocked open an eye. From across the room, Vegeta's dark gaze was focused on her. Even though he could see her watching him, he said,

"We can use them in the morning to take out the Walkers outside. Afterwards, I'll decide what to do with them."


	9. Chichi

**9.**

**Her** farmhouse was starting to feel… crowded.

But it was a good thing, she reminded herself. Before it had been just herself and her father. For weeks they'd stayed holed up together, alone, surviving on canned food, squash and radishes from the garden and eggs from the hens they kept in the roost.

Before it had been boring. Now, it was anything but.

Bulma was bossy. She'd appointed herself leader and felt the need to berate everyone. Constantly. Lunch seemed one short fuse away from offing her. Tien spent his time divided between making sure Lunch only killed Biters and making sure Chiaotzu was alright. Chiaotzu, of course, was always alright. He smiled and ran around the garden, chasing crows and making Mrs. Brief laugh. Mrs. Brief well… her elevator didn't seem to go all the way to the top floor.

Then there was her father, who was perfectly relaxed even though that they'd gone from rationing their food from 2 to 8 in a matter of days. Her dad who laughed over dinner and constantly reminded her that things weren't so bad after all.

And, finally, there was Goku.

Goku. Probably not as dumb as Mrs. Brief. Probably not as childish as Chiaotzu who was, she reminded herself, an actual child. But he was precise and kind and sure. They'd gone to fetch eggs together that morning and two Biters had gotten into the coop. She'd set some traps early on when the Biting plague began, but Goku had taken care of them effortlessly. And with a shovel no less.

She pretended that she hadn't noticed the way his muscles bunched, the way his hair looked oddly soft for the way it held itself up.

"You okay?" Goku asked.

Chichi nodded, a bit harshly. "Yep. Yeah. Yep. Totally."

He scratched his scalp. "Uh… Are you sure? You look a little strange."

"Thanks," she grumbled.

Goku went back to dragging one of the lifeless Biter corpses by the leg. There was a burn pile off to one corner of the property only a few acres away. It was a short walk and her boots dug into the damp earth. It had rained recently and everything was coated with a layer of moisture.

Changing the subject, Chichi said, "I still don't understand how these got in."

"I'll go and check the fence this afternoon. Maybe there's a breech."

She nodded. One of the arms fell off the Biter and, scrunching her nose, she plucked the limb off the ground and followed Goku towards the burn pile.

"Maybe," she agreed. "Or maybe they climbed it. Or crawled under it."

"I haven't seen a Lurker crawl or climb."

"Doesn't mean they couldn't."

He exhaled through his nose and nodded. Then, with the ease of one of those buff Olympic discus throwers he tossed the Biter onto the charred pile. Chichi lobbed the arm into the stack as well, and watched as Goku started up a flame.

"I'm glad you guys are here," she heard herself saying.

Goku turned to her and smiled. It was a bit of a goofy smile, but it made her ovaries sing. _It's just because you don't know any other guys besides Tien - bald and too serious - and your father_, she reminded herself. Goku got to his feet, his biceps flexing beneath his soft cotton shirt. She looked away. Quickly.

Thankfully Goku seemed clueless to her thoughts. Chichi dusted off her jeans and scampered away from the pile of burning Biters. Sure, she'd been raised on a farm and little of the blood-and-guts variety phased her. But something about the armless thing who used to a be a person gave her the creeps.

When the pair made it back to the farmhouse, Mrs. Brief was teaching her father needlepoint. Chiaotzu and Tien were playing cards on the floor. Bulma was sprawled out on the sofa, fanning herself.

"Where's Lunch?" Goku asked. Chichi tried not to flare with jealousy.

"Up on the roof, playing lookout," Tien responded. "Go fish," he told the boy, who eagerly grabbed a card.

Bulma looked towards the pair and frowned. "Where have you two been?"

"A couple Lurkers got near the chicken coop."

"What?" Bulma pulled herself into a sitting position. Her brow creased with concern. "How? I thought this place was secure."

"It is," Chichi replied. "But occasionally a Biter or two gets in. I have some traps set, and we haven't had one get near the house."

"Yet." Bulma looked to Goku. "I'll go check the perimeter."

"Yeah. I'll come along."

Chichi watched them go, biting her lips together. It was difficult to resent Bulma, of course. She was in the same predicament. They were fishing from same nearly empty pool of eligible men. And, yeah, Bulma had the advantage of being gorgeous and older - probably mid-twenties - and of knowing Goku from Before.

"Chichi, you coming too?" Bulma asked as she pulled on her jacket by the door. Chichi stilled. There wasn't an ounce of competitive malice in her voice.

"Uh." She blinked. "Yeah. I'll show you where they might be getting in."


	10. Raditz

**10.**

**The** moment day broke, they waited for Vegeta's signal. The twins were reluctant to receive orders, but after lots of glaring at one another they eventually agreed. The threat of being ripped apart by Walkers would do that to a person.

Raditz pressed his back against the wall near the back door. His machete in hand. The male twin - one of the numbers, he couldn't remember which - stood with Nappa on the opposite side of the doorframe. Since the three were only equipped with melee weaponry, they were to take the rear. Vegeta with his gun and the female twin with the bow were to go first and try and clear the nearest Walkers first.

It was a solid plan. But he wasn't surprised. Vegeta was full of them.

Raditz turned to Vegeta to find the other man clicking a full magazine into this GSG 522. When Vegeta lifted his head, eyes narrowed and snarl firm, he gave a quick nod. Just the slightest lift of his jaw, but Raditz and Nappa read the movement well enough.

Nappa sprung to the ready, knocking off the meagre bolt and bursting open the door. Sunlight flooded the cabin, and though a few Walkers were knocked over by the force of the door the front line was quickly replaced.

Raditz's eyes flicked around the yard. Nineteen, maybe twenty Walkers remained. Nothing compared to the horde that had chased them and cornered them the night before.

The number quickly declined as Vegeta popped off his first shot. The girl quickly followed suit, expertly lodging an arrow into a Walker's skull. She raced forward and pulled her arrow from the dead Walker, and when two more approached she jammed the arrow into one's brain stem, using the bolt as a knife.

Raditz smirked as he watched her, before turning away and taking care of the Walkers approaching. Machete in hand, he sliced off the first one's head. It was a disgusting little bastard wearing a three-piece suit. He always wondered about their backstories. What they'd been like Before. How they'd fallen prey to the pandemic. How he was really doing them a favor decapitating them.

Three more were on him. Teeth snapping, lifeless bloodshot eyes rolling back. Their cheeks sunken, their skin sallow.

"Hn," Raditz snorted, delivering the first Walker a kick the the abdomen. It sailed backwards and took a few pathetic attempts to get back to its feet. A woman with a blonde ponytail came at him next. Very soccer mom looking. He swung his machete in an arch, rendering her motionless. Then he took to the second who was still scrambling to its feet.

When he looked up, the male twin was panting. Blood smeared across his face. His sister was retrieving the last of her arrows from the pile of corpses that surrounded them. Nappa was the only one still engaged, chuckling maliciously as a Walker stumbled in his direction. Stupid fuck. Nappa had cut off both the Walker's arms and was taunting the thing.

Vegeta snarled and shot it through the skull. Nappa frowned.

"C'mon Vegeta. I was just having a little fun."

Since nothing much had changed with their dynamic from Before, Vegeta ignored the older man and turned to Raditz. He straightened to attention. Vegeta had only been one rank above them in the military, but he'd always been their leader. When he'd found the pair in Central City after the initial breakout, he'd been rather levelheaded about the whole thing.

"Figure out what you're going to do with us?" the female twin said, her voice cold and glare like ice. Frigid little thing, Raditz decided.

Vegeta didn't look at her, his eyes moving over the pile of dead Walkers instead. One side of his mouth pulled to a smirk before it was gone and replaced with the stoic mask he usually wore. Raditz straightened. It would be a shame if Vegeta shot her then. He was starved for company. Any company. Nappa was an idiot and Vegeta never spoke. Plus, the blonde was pretty hot. And not just by there-aren't-any-other-chicks-around hot.

Vegeta held his gun at his side. "You two might be useful."

"Useful?" she asked, cocking a brow.

Vegeta's eyes were on her then. And Raditz almost laughed. The stupid bitch didn't even look intimidated.

"Yes," Vegeta replied. Monotone. Callous. "Useful."

And though her lips pursed and something venomous seemed to burn on the tip of her tongue, she remained silent.

When she rested her cross bow on its shoulder strap, she must've felt Raditz's eyes on her because she looked at him then. He shot her a wolfish grin and her brows narrowed. He winked and she rolled her eyes.

Vegeta might've thought she was useful, but Raditz knew she'd at least be good for a little fun.


	11. Lunch

11.

**The **sun had begun its descent, illuminating the wheat fields in vibrant red. She sat on the roof, one ankle tucked beneath the other, her rifle sat at her side. The crops stretched in the distance. Chickens heckled from their place in the coop. The breeze touched her face and she inhaled. It didn't even smell like rotting flesh and decay and spoiled food and…

The window behind her opened she turned, not surprised to find Tien hunching to get through the dormered window. He was the only one who talked to her these days. She'd been a loner before and now, suddenly the words was ending and she found herself with a sidekick.

"You didn't come to dinner," Tien said in lieu of greeting.

Lunch exhaled through her nose. Not wanting to see the look in Tien's eyes - it was always like he was trying to coax her into seeing things his way - she turned back to the wheat fields. Crops and chickens, this place was sustainable. Obviously not infallible, what with the breech from a few days ago when a Walker had broken in and gotten in, but it would do.

"We could take this place."

She knew he was frowning now. Judging her, being unhappy that she wasn't all trusting rays of sunshine. But she knew what she'd said was true. They had more guns. They could run them off, have this place to themselves. Or herself, if she would start thinking straight.

"What?" she said, turning to look at him. The frown was there. That look of concern flashing in his eyes. "Were you a saint before the turn? Because I wasn't. And I sure as hell am not one now."

"No." And Lunch noted the way he smiled ruefully and turned away from her. _Huh_. So Tien, protector of small boys and unsuspecting women, hadn't been of the saint variety Before. Interesting.

"What were you then?"

He sighed. "An assassin."

She laughed. Looked at him, and then her jaw fell slack. "You're serious?"

Tien nodded. "And you? I'm guessing you weren't a pediatric nurse and part-time volunteer at the animal shelter."

"I was bank robber."

Silence settled between them. Tien looked out at the fields and Lunch looked at him.

"I guess the good ones rarely make it," he said.

"Nah. We just knew how to handle weapons when our friends and coworkers and families starting attacking. We just learned how to stop giving a shit. That kind of stuff helps."

Tien laughed. "I doubt the farmer and his daughter were murderers and pillagers before the turn."

She stretched out her legs and leaned back, soaking in the last minutes of daylight. "And the blue haired one?"

"Bulma?"

Lunch grinned. "Bulma _Brief. _Heiress billionaire, Capsule Corp tycoon."

"No shit?" His eyes were wide with surprise.

"No shit," Lunch repeated, the shadow of a smile tugging at her lips. "Just think. If I'd met her two months ago I would've tried holding her for ransom."

"We're not taking over. These are nice people."

Lunch pursed her lips. "They aren't our people."

"Do you have 'people?'" he asked.

Instead of answering, Lunch got to her feet. Then she bent to retrieve her gun and caught sight of the trees shaking in the distance. Slowly, she raised her rifle, squinting one eye and using the other to look through the scope.

On the edges of Ox's land the dense forest trembled.

"Shit," she cursed. "Biters."

Tien was on his feet, too. Without a scope he could see the tremor in the forest, but he couldn't see the detail Lunch was viewing.

"It's a horde," she explained.

"A… horde? They're usually stagnant. What're they doing, traveling in a group?"

"I don't know." She lowered her weapon and started towards the open window. "We have to go."

"We," Tien said, and she turned on him with a frown. "As in.. all of us? Wow. Look at you, growing a heart."

"Not now."

And then he was following her out the window. Climbing down the stairs and racing into the living area. Mrs. Brief was washing dishes. Bulma was cleaning her gun at the table. Goku and Chiaotzu were doing jumping jacks in the living room. Tien looked around.

"Where're Chichi and Ox?"

"They went to check the traps. What's wrong?" Bulma asked. She was standing now, her lever-action shotgun clenched in one pale hand. Blue eyes darting back and forth between the pair.

"Biters. Lots of them, heading this way."

Bulma turned to the window. At the sight of the Lurkers leaving the confines of the dense foliage, her lips parted. It was a terrifying site. One that took even her brain a few moments to process. "That's… impossible."

"There're at least 40, 50 of them," Goku said, scrambling away from the window and grabbing his shovel. Lunch frowned. She wasn't sure what a lousy shovel was supposed to do against the group closing in on their safe house. There were too many.

"We can't run. We're safe here. We'll just… stay inside. Stay upstairs, so they can't get us."

Bulma was shaking her head before her mother was done talking. "No. There are too many of them. Even on the roof… I don't think…" She turned to Tien. "We'd never make it."

He nodded. "We have to go."

Mrs. Brief started loading a plastic grocery bag with canned food and Bulma tossed her backpack over her shoulder before fishing her screwdriver from the front pocket. Then she retrieved the keys hanging near the back door. She'd had a talk with Ox about his rusty pickup truck and he assured her there was plenty of gas in case of an emergency. And Bulma was smart; she always planned for the worst. Especially now. Being comfortable wasn't an option.

"I'll go get Chichi and Ox," Goku said. "We'll meet by the cars."

"I'm coming with you," Tien said, grabbing his gun and following Goku to the car. Bulma tossed Lunch the keys to Ox's truck.

"Mom and I will go start the jeep. Chiaotzu, are you coming?"

The boy nodded and quickly followed Bulma and Mrs. Breif out the back door. Tien watched them go, an uneasy expression settling on his features. When he glanced at Lunch, she gave him a comforting smile.

"He'll be okay." She didn't make any promises about the rest of them, though. Then she was gone, racing to the pickup and starting the engine. She didn't leave. Just sat in the cab and looked at him.

She could've been gone already, but she wasn't. Tien exhaled.

The horde was closing in on the iron fence.

"It'll take a few minutes for them to break through," he said, and was surprised by the serious expression on Goku's features. Tien had only ever seen Goku be well, silly. Running around the radish fields with Chiaotzu and being clueless about the longing looks the farmer's daughter was always shooting him.

Tien shook his head and followed this serious version of Goku to the back of the field.

"Chichi," Goku called, and the dark haired woman looked up. A smile on her features.

"Hey! What're you guys…" She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Lurkers."

"Inside again?"

Goku shook his head and Tien turned, glancing back at the fence on the east edge of the property. The Lurkers were fanning out, pressing against the iron fence, causing it to sway. When he turned back, Chichi was watching the horde in horror.

"Let's go."

The four moved back towards the farmhouse where two vehicles were waiting to take them to safety. It was so close, but the distance felt impossibly far.

Chichi watched in horror as the iron bars caved and the horde descended upon the farm. A mass stopped at the chicken coop, and her throat went dry. Goku turned around and grabbed for her hand.

"Don't look," he said. "Just run."

_Don't look_. _Just run. _She repeated over and over, again and again, trying not to think of anything else.

And then they were behind them. Their snarls loud. Their moans filling the serene silence of her farm, her home. She raced quickly, feet flying over the damp earth. Thumping against the solid ground. Her lungs burning. The sun had nearly set and it was difficult to see. It was…

Her foot snagged something and she fell, face first. The tang of copper coated her tongue. Her lip split, her face pounding.

"Chichi," she heard her father say. She glanced up. Goku was skidding to a stop, Tien just a few yards ahead. When she turned, nearly ten Walkers were closing in on her. Her ankle burned as she scooted backwards, trying to get further out of their reach.

"Go," she shouted, but wasn't surprised when Tien lifted his handgun and popped off four shots. The closest Walkers fell. Goku was near too, moving fast. Expertly wielding his shovel, smashing Walkers, alternating between the sharp and blunt end of the tool. Blood spurted and dotted his face. But he kept moving, kept whacking.

Chichi stumbled to her feet, and with shaking hands reached for the pistol she always kept on her hip.

"Move back," Tien called. He was reloading his own gun, walking backwards. Chichi took two shaky steps back. Goku panted and looked at her.

"You alright?"

She nodded, but turned quickly. The Walkers were still approaching. When one fell it seemed two more took their place. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, hummingbird quick.

There were too many. There was nowhere to go.

Her father was holding his shotgun. It was only a double barrel. He shot one spray and then another, and then had to retrieve another pair of shells from his bag. Chichi raced to his side. He was panting, his hands shaking and slick with sweat. One of his shells slipped from his grasp and Chichi bent to retrieve it.

"Go," he whispered.

She shook her head. "No."

"_Go_," he repeated. "You have to run."

"I'm not leaving you." She tugged his arm, and raised her pistol, taking out the approaching Walkers. When she turned, Goku and Tien were still fending off the horde. It was too much. They weren't going to make it. She took out another Walker, now just faceless corpse in the fading light.

There were too many. She raced forward, but her father was slower. A few paces behind, still trying to load his weapon.

"I love you," Ox said and she stopped. "You're a strong girl, Chichi. You'll do fine. Stay with Goku. He'll keep you safe."

"Daddy!"

And then he was falling to his knees, a Walker's nails grabbing at his legs. Ox winced as the Walker sunk its teeth into the flesh of his calf.

"No!" Chichi screamed.

A pair of vice-like hands were around her middle. Picking her up, carrying her away. She thrashed against the arms. Kicked her feet. Tears blurred her vision and the edges of her periphery darkened, like a slow-moving train headed towards a tunnel.

Tien raised his gun and shot Ox, effectively putting him out of his misery. There were too many Walkers descending upon him now. Dropping to their knees and feasting on his hefty carcass. Chichi sobbed. Goku pressed on, carrying her away, towards the pair of running vehicles. He tossed her in the backseat of the pickup truck and slid in beside her.

"Go," Goku commanded.

Beside their parked truck, Tien hopped in the jeep and Bulma slammed her foot on the gas before he'd even closed the door.

Lunch followed quickly, chancing a glimpse in the rearview. The farm was overrun. Dozens of Walkers dotted every inch of the property. A few followed the pair of vehicles, but they were too slow. They'd lost the horde by the time they hit the main road.

Chichi sobbed. A loud, unrelenting choking sound that rocked the inside of the cab. Goku held her close.

"Christ," Lunch growled, her eyes snapping back to the road. "Someone get her to shut up."

Goku ignored her. Stroked her hair. Whispered meaningless assurances to deaf ears. It felt a bit like his heart was being crushed, too. He remembered returning from the dojo that day, only to find Grandpa Gohan… different. Sallow skin. Inhuman growl. His guardian and best friend attacked him, and he'd had to… well, he didn't want to think about what he'd done.

Goku looked ahead to see the ratty jeep carrying Bulma, Tien, Chiaotzu and Mrs. Brief. In the front seat, Lunch drove. The empty spot next to her was intended for Ox. In the backseat, Chichi shook. He didn't know what to do, so he held her a little tighter.


	12. 12 Tien

12.

**Driving** was… nice. Easy. Safe.

Sure, they hit the occasional roadblock or two. Wreckage sprawled out, blocking the roadways was the most common reason for Bulma commanding the group to stop.

They stopped twice a day to stretch and eat. Tien sighed, already missing the farm fresh food Mrs. Brief prepared. Stale protein bars and water filtered from his canteen was hardly the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions.

But it seemed to be that of the living, so he ate without audible complaint. Mrs. Brief's occasional comment about looking for another place with a kitchen cut through the silence. Usually, Bulma just frowned and chewed on her own 1,000 calorie brick. Sometimes she would calmly explain that they were going to the coast. To the island where Goku's martial arts trainer resided. An island they had no proof was untouched by this plague.

Although, Bulma had a point. Even if its inhabitants had Turned, it would be easy to wipe them out and take the island for themselves. It would be good, settling down again. Chiaotzu needed something stable. Tien had allowed himself to think for a few moments that they'd been safe on the farm, but it was too open, too exposed. Whatever it was that triggered hordes of Biters - maybe a flock of animals or the sound of something in the distance or a passing helicopter or plane, if there were any of those still flying - it meant they'd never be safe on the mainland.

And he was content to stick with Bulma and Goku. Bulma was smart and savvy. She had an air of importance about her, a good head on her shoulders even if she tended to be a bit of a bitch about it. Goku, however, was the real reason he wanted to remain with this particular group.

He was strong, uncanningly good at taking out Walkers. The best in the group, hands down. Given that he'd had martial arts experience, it shouldn't have come as much a surprise. But even with Lunch's skill with a pistol and his own past as an assassin, they still had nothing on Goku.

Tien had watched, dumbfounded, as a group of seven Biters dragged themselves in their direction. Goku had taken them each out, single handedly, with nothing more than bare fists and a shovel.

"You okay?" Lunch asked, kneeling to his side. Tien shrugged in reply. He tossed his empty wrapper onto the grass. Littering wouldn't do any damage to the world now.

When he looked over, Bulma was helping Chiaotzu with his water filter. When Tien glanced back at Lunch, he frowned.

"I like these people."

She lifted a brow. Her face was smudged with dirt, her clothes dingy. "O-kay."

"I don't want you to mess this up. Chiaotzu needs this."

Lunch nodded, looking at the boy and exhaling through her nose. "Fine. I won't shoot Bulma or Chichi or anyone. Even if they're asking for it."

"Good."

Lunch got to her feet. "Good then. Let's go."

Once back in the vehicles, Tien slid into the passenger's seat. Chiaotzu and Mrs. Brief nestled into the bench seat behind him. Lunch, Goku and Chichi took the pickup truck; he could already hear its hearty engine rumbling to life.

"Shit," Bulma cursed. He didn't have to ask what it was. The look on her face spoke volumes.

"How low?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet. Not that Chiaotzu or Mrs. Breif would clue into the impact of his works anyway.

Bulma bit her lip. "Pretty low. We'll make it another 45, maybe 50 miles tops."

He glanced at the map. That would put them in the outskirts of a small mountain city. Not anywhere near the coast.

"Just keep your eyes peeled for another car. Something sturdy or at least fuel efficient. These roads have been traveled on; I doubt we'll find any fuel to syphon but maybe…"

Tien nodded. "We'll go as far as we can manage."

So they drove. Bulma tried to keep her speed consistent. To coast whenever possible until the jeep sputtered to a stop.

"I guess this is it," she whispered. She put on a brave face but Tien didn't miss the way her hands shook. Up ahead, the pickup slowed to a stop. Lunch hopped out first, followed by its other passengers. Chichi raised her gun, but no Biters lunged out of the woods.

"We're out of fuel."

Lunch replied, "The truck only has 15 or so miles left. Some of us can sit in back until..."

Until they had to continue on foot. And so they made quick work of it, stretching the last few miles with the sun still high in the sky before they set out on foot. Bulma gripped her map like a lifeline, but there wasn't another town for another few miles yet. She hated walking in the open, but it was a bit more comforting in a larger group.

Their labored breathing and dull footsteps filled the silence. By the time they hit Mountain Pass City, it was sprinkling. Her clothes damp, her map rolled safely into her pack, Bulma clutched her shotgun and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maybe we should find a safe place for tonight. We can find some cars in the morning."

Mountain Pass City was just a roadstop. A single fuel station that was deserted, its convenience store picked through. Goku and Lunch took out the pair of Walkers inside, but it didn't seem to matter. They'd be surviving on rationed protein bars another day at least. Tien felt a stone settle low in his belly. Chiaotzu smiled tightly at him and stuffed a lighter in his pack.

When the group opened the door, they froze.

Two men stood, one wielding a knife the other a hatchet.

"Don't shoot," one said, raising his hands in surrender. He was tall and waifish, shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck. Despite his companion's surrender, the other man didn't budge. Hatchet still in hand, glare etched on his features.

"We don't want any trouble," Goku said, voice affable. Smile dazzling. Though Tien caught a slight, untrusting edge in his eyes. "We aren't Lurkers. We aren't the enemy. We're just passing through."

"Then keep walking," the bald one with the hatchet growled.

Some of the group was already turning when Goku tilted his head to one side, squinted, and laughed. "Hey, I know you."

The pair of strangers exchanged a look.

"Nappa," Goku said. "You're Nappa. You served with my brother. I had your picture sitting by my bedside, the one of his squad on his first tour. Raditz sent it to me, and I always thought you looked a bit constipated."

The bald one - Nappa, apparently - lowered his machete.

"Holy shit. Raditz is sure going to be glad to see you."

Goku blinked. "You're with Raditz?"

Nappa nodded. "This here is, uh - 17 or 18."

"17," he deadpanned.

"We've got a place set up for the night near the pass." Then his eyes darted from Raditz's brother to a petite Asian girl in painted on jeans, a blue haired woman with come-hither cleavage, a blonde who looked ready to cut off his dick where he stood - he ignored that one, they had one of those back at the safehouse - and finally to another lady, older than the rest, the definition of _MILF_.

He grinned at the latter and she gave a girlish giggle.

"Do you boys have a stove? I've got a pack full of snap peas and rice, and I'd love to cook something."

Bulma rolled her eyes and followed the group towards the supposedly safe house. If Goku trusted these men, she'd try to as well.

She met Tien's eyes and he frowned. Nappa didn't seem the kind of guy to shit rainbows. Certainly more the type to murder you in your sleep for your gun. She didn't miss that he was only carrying a hatchet. Lunch, on the other hand, had a pack full of guns and ammo. It wasn't a position Bulma was eager to put herself in. She glanced at Chiaotzu, the small, pale boy walking beside Goku. Then she turned to her mother who was prattling on about her sore ankles and how she'd positively _kill _for a hot bath.

"There's strength in numbers," Tien said. Bulma thought he was trying to convince her. More likely, however, he was attempting to convince himself.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for all the reviews. I have a direction for this story but if there are certain POVs you'd like to see moreless of, please - let me know!

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FINALLY. BV fans - go ahead and join the We're Just Saiyan Community. There's a link on my profile. We're a nice group, I promise.


	13. 13 Goku

13.

**Their** safehouse was a sturdy stone structure situated on a cliff. Mountain Pass City wasn't a large town by any means, but there was a splattering of houses and the occasional overall-wearing Lurker. Nappa set the pace, moving quickly through the valley. Goku was at his heels, shovel swinging at his side. He was more than slightly eager to see his brother again, but that didn't keep him from turning ever so often to check on his group.

Bulma was a few paces behind him. He didn't miss the hard, untrusting look in her eyes. Mrs. Brief, Chichi and Tien walked in tandem at her side. Chiaotzu just a few paces back, struggling to keep up with Nappa's gait. Briefly, Goku wondered what his brother would think of their group, traveling with a child. He knew Radtiz was a good person, deep down, but it was sometimes hard to see it through all that hair and muscle and personality. He might think traveling with a kid was liability. Goku would make sure that his brother would understand. He'd have to.

_Children are our future_ Bulma had told him, when they'd been back at Ox's farm house. Goku just thought keeping kids alive was the decent thing to do.

He turned back to check once more. Lunch took the rear, gun in hand, frown in place. At her side was 17. He didn't seem all that convinced about their ragtag group, either. Making friends in this new world was difficult. Goku knew he'd have to be extra friendly if he wanted to win these people over.

They climbed the hill up to the stone two-story. Three figures were outside waiting on them. They must've seen the large party approaching from the distance and were now on guard. Despite the way he'd been looking ready for battle, Raditz relaxed the moment they came close enough to make out. Racing forward, he threw his arms around his brother.

Goku grinned into his brother's wild mane. Raditz could definitely use a bath. Both men could use a good night's rest. Goku clasped his arm behind Raditz's back and Raditz laughed.

Despite Goku's heartfelt reunion, Bulma braced herself. 17 took place beside an obvious relation of his. She had a harsh glare and an unforgiving frown. Her t-shirt was ripped below her right breast, revealing a stomach that had Bulma sucking in a fraction. Sure, Bulma considered herself a hottie, but she didn't have _abs_. Bulma glanced away quickly from the cross-bow wielding Wonder Woman. On the corner of the stone porch stood the final member of Raditz's group. His eyes were trained on Raditz and Goku, as though he hadn't noticed the crowd of misfits. As much as Bulma didn't want to admit, they were a bit off kilter as a whole. While Radtiz's group appeared strong, she looked around at and took stock of her flighty mother, the sheltered farm girl, a little boy, a bipolar woman with more guns than patience, and herself - quick on her feet and too smart for her own good, but she was still figuring out how to load her weapon. Still adjusting to this insane way of life. And she didn't have rock hard abs...

At least Tien and Goku appeared strong. Capable. She straightened her shoulders and channeled some of her signature confidence.

"Holy shit. It's Bulma with a gun," Raditz called, pulling away from his brother and grinning at her. She'd always thought they were acquaintances at best. Sure, she and Goku had been childhood friends, despite the fact that she was closer in age with Raditz. But Goku had adored running around the woods with her, hunting for gold and treasure. Trying to read cryptic maps her father would leave them in his workshop. Raditz had chased the girls in her class, took her best friend's virginity and joined the military the day he'd turned 18.

But even though he'd never touched her until then, Raditz enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug and she stood there with her arms at her side. Smile in place, she said,

"It's good to see you." Because it kind of was. Despite the fact that his group was on the intimidating side, the more able-bodied persons the better. Especially people she'd known of Before. People who most likely wouldn't slit her throat in her sleep.

Raditz turned to the man on the porch. He was standing near the railing, and his eyes were on the pair. His gaze was cool and unflinching. His stance casual, as though they weren't a threat. Bulma felt her heart thrumming against her ribcage.

"Vegeta, this is my brother and his friend."

The man, Vegeta, glanced behind them. For a moment, his lips flexed to a frown. Taking a few steps forward, Bulma had no doubt he was their leader. He carried himself with an air of importance. He'd obviously done a good job keeping his group in tact, and he wasn't going to take any risks by allowing weak links.

"And the rest of them?"

Raditz scratched the back of his skull. "Well, I don't know them. But…" Raditz's voice trailed and Vegeta arched a challenging brow. When he still didn't reply, Vegeta turned the weight of his stare on Nappa. "I sent you for food. Are we going to eat Raditz's brother?"

"They have food." Nappa grinned. "They offered to cook for us, even."

"Poison us," the blonde woman with all the Abs growled. Her crossbow raised a fraction.

"I don't plan on getting my hands dirty for a bow." Lunch countered.

Bulma smiled. It felt too tight, but it was all she could manage given the circumstances. "It's getting dark. Why don't we finish securing the premises, eat dinner, and then we can talk. It's been a long day; if we don't agree, we'll go our separate ways in the morning." 

"This place is secure," Raditz said.

"What?" Goku craned his neck left than right, confusion evident on his features.

"The windows have been boarded, the back door is secure."

Bulma turned towards the land. The fence surrounding the perimeter was thin, three rows of barbed wire looked ready to stop any Lurkers who might approach them.

"We'll do a sweep. You don't have any traps set," she said.

"Traps?" This from Nappa, who was looking at her curiously.

Bulma turned to Chichi who furrowed her brow. "Yeah. Stakes in the ground, just to stop some of the Walkers who get too close."

Chichi, Goku, Raditz, Tien and Vegeta went to set traps. Well, Goku, Chichi and Tien demonstrated how they set up the discarded branches at an angle, jutting from the rocky earth. They sharpened the edges and explained how Walkers who got through would lodge themselves into the stake. They set a few traps near the gate, where the fence was less secure.

While Chichi explained how they weren't foolproof but it was something, Raditz made comments regarding how it seemed waste of time. Vegeta only frowned, his arms crossed and his glare unrelenting.

Mrs. Brief and Chiaotzu followed Nappa into the kitchen to begin dinner. Bulma exhaled through her nose at the way the bald man hovered over her mother's shoulder, but she was too tired to say anything. Instead, she appointed herself Lunch's baby sitter to make sure she didn't get in a shoot-off with the twins.

Traps set and fence secure, they sat around a large table. A recliner and three metal folding chairs and been dragged into the kitchen, but by the time Mrs. Brief proclaimed dinner ready all 12 members were able to sit together. Their elbows bumped, but it had been ages since any of them had faced a hot meal.

And as they ate, some of the tension seemed to evaporate.

Tien and Lunch discussed weapons with Raditz. Goku kept biting his lip so he didn't reveal that Lunch had a small armory tucked inside her bag. He'd been instructed by Bulma that it wouldn't be wise to give Raditz's friends any reason to think they'd be sweeter for the taking.

Bulma ate in silence. Her mother doing enough talking for all of them. She glanced up to find the twins, 17 and 18, had hardly touched their food. They were smart to be untrusting. However, Nappa, Raditz and Vegeta ate with vigor, almost putting Goku to shame.

It was a shaky alliance, sure, but it was slightly comforting being a part of a larger, stronger group.

"What's your plan?" Raditz asked.

Bulma sat down her utensils. "The coast. You guys?"

"West," Raditz replied. "We heard the cities were safe."

Bulma shook her head. "It isn't. That's where we came from. West City's been leveled. I left CC later than I should've, but when I did, there was nothing left."

Raditz looked to Vegeta, who didn't looked phased. His gaze flickered to Bulma before returning to his food. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, and he didn't seem to have much to say. But he was actually kind of cute, Bulma decided. Good bone structure, nice shoulders, and a general demeanor of badassery. All things she could appreciate. She wondered if he smuggled hair gel into that pack of his, or if he had the same uncanny ability that Goku always managed with his natural gravity-defying spikes.

"What about the military?" Tien asked, speaking up for the first time since instructing Raditz on the proper way to set traps. "Wasn't there a military camp up north?"

"The military is gone," Nappa said, pausing in his devouring of a meal to wink at Mrs. Brief. Bulma suppressed an eye roll.

"We have a place in mind. Kame House." Goku grinned, his eagerness palpable. His brother nodded. They'd both been trained there, and Roshi was a strange sensei but Goku had a point. There was a definite advantage to settling on an island. Hope bubbled low in his stomach.

"That's actually not a bad plan."

"We said we'd talk about this later," Mrs. Brief countered. "Now finish your dinners. If you're good, I've got a little something for dessert."

As instructed, they ate and Mrs. Brief brought out a lumpy cake baked in a cast iron pan. She mentioned, not for the first time, that she hated this primitive cooking, and Bulma wondered if her mother believed that _that _was honestly the most difficult part of the way things were now.

After dessert, they gathered whatever blankets and pillows and towels they could find from drawers and a stocked linen closet. The stone house was spacious, with three beds upstairs and two sofas downstairs, but it felt crowded with the dozen occupants vying for sleep space.

While they argued, Goku helped Chichi carry the dishes to Mrs. Brief. There was no hot water, but chilly water sprung from the faucet. Most of the homes in these small, mountain towns had wells. They'd get along like they had at the farm house. No hot showers, but with a little flint and creativity they'd manage.

Chichi set a plate beside Mrs. Brief and Goku frowned.

"Why are we cleaning? Aren't we going to be gone tomorrow?"

"Maybe not," Chichi said with a shrug. "Besides, it feels unkind, leaving this place a mess."

Goku thought back to all the stores they'd laid wreckage to. All the vehicles they'd abandoned in the center of the road. A couple of dirty plates hardly seemed to put a dint in the havoc.

Chichi nodded towards Mrs. Brief, who was singing to herself as she eagerly scrubbed a glass.

"I think she likes it. There's a sort of order to it, you know. A routine. A reminder of the way things were."

There were a lot of things Goku missed about Before. Washing dishes wasn't one of them.

From the living room he could hear disagreement about a sleeping bag. At the sink, Mrs. Brief sung a romantic ballad to a plate. When he looked at Chichi, he frowned. She looked… weird. She was smiling at him. A strange smile, not her normal one. Her head was cocked to one side, and she seemed to be trying to tell him something with the way she blinked a bit too rapidly.

"Do you need some air?" he asked.

She flushed. "Oh, that would be great. Let's go."

Since it was potentially dangerous outside and she seemed to think he was coming anyway, Goku followed her out to the porch. She stood a bit closer to him than Bulma or Mrs. Brief did. Maybe that's how people acted when they were raised on farms? 

He glanced down at her. Chich was a good deal shorter than himself.

"Thank you for being here, Goku."

He wasn't sure if she meant on the porch or something else entirely, so he scratched the back of his head and said, "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry I'm a mess."

"You have aright to be a mess. Because of your dad." He flinched. It had sounded better in his head. There had even been an apology injected in there somewhere, but it hadn't been articulated. To her credit, Chichi gave a wry smile and shrugged. It was dark out, but he could see the big white part of her eyes go a little glassy.

"It's okay. It was for the best, really. He wasn't meant to live in this world." She leaned into him a bit and Goku leaned away. "He had trouble with the hard stuff, the stuff he didn't agree with. I'd always have to slaughter the pig in the fall because year after year he fell in love with the thing. He was too… nice. Too soft for living like this."

"You're nice," Goku said. And, foolishly, he added, "Soft."

Another splattering of red across Chichi's cheeks and she stepped away from him this time. Goku let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Not really. I never had any trouble killing the pig. It was what needed to be done."

"Kind of like with Lurkers."

She nodded. "Right. It's necessary. It's not fun, but it has to be done."

He didn't know why, but for a moment with her leaning into him and her eyes big and glassy and the moon high in the sky and breeze a bit warm in the mountain pass, Goku thought about kissing her.


	14. Krillin

14.

**He** pulled open the pantry door and prompted himself not to cringe. Three cans of chunk tuna fish sat scattered on the shelf. There was a half a box of buttery crackers and two tins of corn. Krillin sighed and closed the door. He'd known what was awaiting him, but he felt his stomach sink just the same.

"Well?" a voice asked, and Krillin turned to find Yamcha watching him with an oddly calm expression given their circumstances. It had been weeks since the television broadcasts had come to a crashing halt. Their electricity had cut off a few days later and now water was an issue. On an island surrounded by ocean it seemed silly but somewhere in the back of his mind _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner _taunted him.

_ Water, water, every where,_

_ Nor any drop to drink._

"It's bad," Krillin admitted.

Yamcha nodded. "I know. I looked this morning. We have to make a run into town. Who knows, maybe things aren't as bad on the mainland as we think."

Krillin wanted to beat his head against the pantry door. He knew things weren't good, worse than they could imagine, probably, but they'd starve here. Or go stir crazy. Roshi and Oolong were oddly calm about the whole thing, but they'd put Yajirobe on food rations six days ago and panic had set in.

"We need food. Fishing gear, at least. The ocean stocked but we only have one net." Krillin scrubbed a hand over his face. "We could use some extra blankets. Some water filters."

"We'll need weapons."

"In the trunk upstairs," a third voice said. Krillin and Yamcha turned to find Roshi standing in the kitchen. His skin was red and peeling at the nose. They'd spent the last few days taking turns with the fishing net, trying to branch outside of their stash of canned tuna. They had each been wildly unsuccessful. The added sun made the old man more withered and frail than usual. However for someone hunched at the back a bit, he was surprisingly dexterous.

Roshi lead the group up the creaky stairs and to the dusty old trunk in the corner. When he pried back the lid, his students' faces lit up. Yamcha had half expecting porn. What they found was something else entirely. Like eager children, Yamcha and Krillin grabbed for the weapons inside.

"Why didn't you tell us you had this stuff?" Yamcha asked, picking up a _katana_ a holding it up for inspection.

"Your training hadn't progressed beyond hand-to-hand combat," Roshi replied.

Krillin sifted through a satchel containing a total of six throwing stars before retrieving a pair of _sai_. The weapons boasted three pointed prongs, the longest situated in the middle, the outer prongs curved inwards. The handle was wrapped with butter soft leather and took one in either hand. He felt a bit like a ninja, holding the weapons. He thought of his best friend Goku. It was probably a good thing they hadn't discovered this trunk as kids.

"If you would've taught us how to use these, we'd probably fair a lot better out there," Yamcha grumbled. At the bottom of the trunk was a bo staff, but when he looked closer he saw that it had a curved blade at one end. If he had to come face-to-face with a zombie, he'd rather like the safety of having a long staff between them.

"We can do a quick tutorial with the others."

When the men came back downstairs, Oolong and Yajirobe were waiting on them. When Yamcha announced that they were going into town for supplies, Oolong snorted.

"Count me out."

Yajirobe cross his arms in front of his sizable chest. "Me too."

"We need men on the ground."

"No. We need food. And I'm not risking my life for it," Oolong said.

"Fine. You can stay. But we're taking Yajirobe," Yamcha decided. Which prompted Yajirobe to spew a few choice curses.

"There's a sword," Krillin interrupted. "I know you're good with one. We'll need your help."

And after a crash-course in how to lodge a throwing star in a tree trunk and wield a bo staff with mild finesse, Krillin, Yamcha and Yajirobe settled into the island's sole boat. It was a rickety little boat with a thrumming motor. The paint was peeling off the sides, the woman kneeling in a bikini no longer had a face. Or a left boob.

"Move fast," Roshi called, untying the rope and watching his students with a bit of reluctance. It wasn't a good idea to trek into the unknown, but they'd all die if they continued to wait it out. "We'll be waiting."


	15. 15 Vegeta

15.

**There** were too many of them. Women. A child. Raditz's annoying little brother who wouldn't. stop. talking.

"Kakarot," he barked, unable to recall the man's name. He had a good idea of his last name though, as it was most likely the same as Radtiz's them being brothers and all. Besides he wasn't exactly eager to fill his brain with useless shit like the names of weaklings who probably wouldn't live another month. "Shut up."

"But Vegeta," Kakarot grinned. "Mrs. Brief is making _pancakes_. She found some flour and she thinks-"

Vegeta pushed himself away from the wall and stepped outside. Instantly there was quiet. The morning dew still clung to the ground. Though it was light outside the sun was still tucked behind a canopy of grey clouds. On the edge of the porch the blue haired woman sat, her legs crossed beneath her as she studied a well-creased map.

She bit her lip as she dragged her finger across the paper. Then she frowned, sighed, and started at a different spot.

When she looked up, Vegeta didn't bother to look away. Her lips flexed to a wry smile.

"I'm looking at possible routes. There aren't too many roads through the mountains."

He shrugged. He hadn't asked what she was doing and he didn't particularly care. But she was quite possibly the only other person in their group with two brain cells to rub together so he took a seat at her left and watched with amusement as she tensed like a skittish animal. Her gun was resting between them and she shifted towards it a fraction. Smart, yes, but not very subtle.

"I vote we get a car," she said, meeting his eyes. Cute, he decided, the way she put on a brave face for his benefit. "Although we'll probably need more than one. We'll drive through the pass as best we can. We're not too far from the coast, actually. Once we're through the mountains we'll only have a forty miles, two major cities to pass through, and Kame House is here." She pointed to a small island. It was unnamed on the map, nondescript, so that was promising. "If there are Walkers there, we can easily clear it out."

"It's a straighter shot if we keep off the roads," he said.

The skin between her eyebrows puckered. Her lips shifted to one side and he watched as she dragged a pale finger down the map, from where they sat in the Frypan Mountains to the little unnamed island just a few miles from the coastal city Yahhoy.

"It's a shorter distance, sure, but we'd have to be on foot."

He smirked. "Scared of a few Walkers?"

"I'd rather avoid them."

"Haven't you been on the roads? Most of them are shoulder to shoulder with abandoned cars. So by the chance we find three running vehicles out in the middle of nowhere and enough gas to get us out of the pass, we'd drive until we can't anymore and then we'd be forced to walk ten-times longer than if we'd started on foot now."

Bulma bit her lip, crunching the numbers. When she lifted her gaze from the map she nodded her head, just once. But it seemed to take a lot out of her to concede that he was right.

"Hey. That's actually pretty smart. And here I thought I'd have to be the brains of this entire operation."

He grunted.

"No offense, but I know Raditz. He has a knack for making Goku look gifted. And Nappa, well." She started folding up her map, a small little smile playing on her lips. "Let's just say the cheese seems to have slid straight from his cracker."

Vegeta had no idea what that meant, but it sounded about right. The woman tucked her map into the front compartment of her bag and zipped the pack up. When she looked at him, her brave face wavered a bit.

"If we didn't have Goku, you'd kill us."

It wasn't phrased as a question so he didn't bother answering. Instead, he just watched her. Dirty hair pulled back. Hands shaky as she adjusted her satchel. The little crease between her brows still present, still untrusting. But there was something about her eyes. A sort of unrelenting confidence that refused to let up. The telltale signs of a steely bitchiness that would've probably worn him down before the turn, but he understood her strength was what had kept her alive. What kept her willing to live when so many had given up. He'd been trained to live in hellish conditions; she'd chosen to.

"We have numbers," she said. "Weapons. A bit of ammo. We've made it this long, and we can be beneficial. I'm not going to beg you to let us hang around, but if we go about this together we'll make it."

Impatiently, he replied, "Save your speeches. We've already decided we're going to the island."

"You're a bit of an ass hole, aren't you?"

"A bit," he shrugged. Though his voice was even Bulma noted he wasn't snarling the way he usually did.

She grinned, flashing him two rows of still-white teeth. And then the crazy woman winked at him. "Well then. That's about as much of an alliance as we're going to get."

_Alliance. _Vegeta balked at the word. He'd taken care of Nappa and Raditz for years now. And, more recently, he'd even begun to put his trust in the twins. Whether or not he was an ass hole or not, he was at least allegiant to those who returned the favor. Vegeta looked out into the yard. The traps they'd set the previous day near the weakspots of the old, crumbling stone fence had managed to catch a few Walkers. They stood, stakes driven through their middles, arms flailing and teeth snapping. The woman at his side shivered, and then got to her feet.

"Might as well go take them out of their misery."

"I never thought that Walkers felt much of anything."

"Maybe not." She shrugged. "But they're kinda creepy, just stuck out there like that." And then she retrieved a knife from her belt and Vegeta watched with mild fascination as she took out the four caught Walkers. When she was done, she wiped off her knife with the material of her pants.

_Allies_. It was a ridiculous notion, and out here Vegeta needed no one. He was perfectly capable of surviving on his own. But maybe there was some benefit to keeping these strangers around. He didn't have to be nice, but he could - at the very least - trust them.

...

Vegeta bits are the best. I promise to incorporate lots more of him in the near future. Also - I spent a lot of time studying up on my DB geography for this one. Holy crud I should've just set it in our earth but I'll stick to this setting and hopefully it doesn't confuse anyone too badly... :P


	16. 16 Chichi

16.

**They'd** been walking all day and her calves were killing her. She bit her tongue, silencing her complaints, partly so Goku would think of her has a strong woman. He'd look at her ever so often and smile. Sometimes he'd ask how she was doing and she'd keep all complaints of aching legs to herself and instead reply with what she hoped was a charming "Fine." Once Goku offered her some water and she only spilled a little on her shirt. They stopped only to eat lunch and so Nappa could, as he so eloquently put it, "whiz in the woods".

The other reason she kept all complaints to herself was because Bulma was currently doing enough griping for the both of them.

"Will you _shut up_?" Nappa snapped, turning towards the blue haired woman and glowering at her. Bulma straightened her spin and stuck out her chin in a way that was meant to be defiant but Chichi thought she looked a bit like petulant child. Sometimes it was easy to see glimpses of the spoiled woman she'd been beneath the tough, no-nonsense exterior.

"No. My knees hurt and I need a damn break. I can't walk and read a map at the same time, and none of the rest of you are any help with navigating. If we don't stop we're likely to get lost. It's been six weeks since I've had a drop of coffee, and this instant shit doesn't count. Besides, my knees are _killing _me."

"I don't give a damn about your fucking knees."

"Well _I _don't give a damn about your fucking opinion. We need to-"

"Both of you. Silence," Vegeta snapped. Nappa straightened up immediately. Bulma laughed.

"Are you his dog? Vegeta, tell him to sit."

"I said silence," he growled. His dark eyes scanned the small clearing with intensity and even Bulma bit her lips together. After a few moments he raised his rifle and before the Walker was halfway out of the clearing he'd put a bullet through the centre of its skull. The Walker fell with a hollow thump on the dry earth. The group waited. The ringing of the bullet settled and no other Lurkers emerged from the thicket of trees.

"We'll stop here for the night," Vegeta said, and Chichi let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her legs burned and she was half tempted to drop where she stood. Bulma, however, beat her to it. Plopping her butt on the ground and sighing with relief.

A few members had sleeping bags, but they didn't bother with tents. It was a riskier escape.

Chichi helped Ms. Brief rifle through their packs to gather something for dinner. They'd snacked on protein bars for breakfast and lunch, but the mountain terrane was unrelenting. A hot, cooked meal had Chichi's stomach rumbling. She couldn't imagine what Goku was going through.

Vegeta announced that he and Nappa were going to look for something to eat. A few minutes later Goku and Tien rushed after them. Chichi hoped they would be able to find a wild boar or rabbit. Maybe a deer, if they were lucky. Her stomach released another growl and she shifted, hoping to silence it.

"Chichi," Bulma called. Once again on her feet, gun strapped on her back. "18 and I are going to gather firewood. Care to join?"

She nodded and followed the pair. Lunch stood nearby, arms crossed, her eyes never straying Chiaotzu as he fetched things for Mrs. Brief. Chichi wondered if Lunch had been invited to go along; if she had, she doubted Lunch would want to be immersed in their company anyway. Chichi shook her head and raced to catch up. The trio entered the woods from the clearing, the trees closing in on them, the shadows cutting through the fading light. Chichi much preferred the safety of the larger group and the openness of the clearing. Shotgun in hand, she followed Bulma and 18, crunching dry leaves in her wake.

"I would murder for a shower," Bulma said, breaking the silence.

"A Walker?" 18 asked, a bit of amusement seeping into her tone. It was hard to tell what 18 was feeling, she was normally so even. But out here, just the three of them, she seemed to loosen up a fraction.

Bulma laughed. "Yes. Maybe even a real-live person. If the shower was hot I'd kill…"

"Nappa?" 18 offered.

"Hell, I'd kill Nappa even if it was just a cold one."

"I'd help," 18 said. "I'd throw in the other two army brats for some shampoo."

"And a luffa," Chichi piqued up.

"Plumeria body wash." Bulma moaned. "Bubble bath and a glass of Pinot Grigio."

"I was always more of a beer person myself," 18 added.

Bulma shot her a slanted glance, her smile teasing. "For some reason that doesn't surprise me."

They walked a few more yards in silence, each of them thinking of what they missed from Before. Of hot baths and dark chocolate and their choice alcohol. A sleazy magazine. A…

"Shit," Bulma cursed, coming to a stop. A tent was set up, a scattering of camping gear strewn about. A bit of blood splattered across the leaves and, she moved her gaze across the obvious signs of a struggle until they settled upon a corpse.

"It's been picked apart," Chichi said, unable to tear her eyes from the remains. It was rather unsettling, but she'd become immune to these things. Hardened beyond her farm girl youth. She'd seen neighbors turn into monsters. She'd watched her dad… She looked away, squinted her eyes to fend off the sting of tears.

18 shrugged and started rifling through the camping gear, pocketing a box of matches and flipping on a battery operated flashlight. Bulma sighed, turned her back to the remains and tore open the tent flap. There was nothing much of value apart from a sleeping bag of which they had plenty, and so she stepped back and let the flap fall. She'd intended to ask Chichi something, but stopped short as she saw the hunching figure lumbering in their direction. Its ankle had been broken, but Walkers had a drunken stumble anyway. The thing took a few manic and uncoordinated stumbles in their direction, reminding Chichi a bit of a baby animal learning to take its first steps. Perhaps the infected brains had difficulty mastering its limbs. She'd have to ask Bulma her theory about it. Bulma seemed to hold all sorts of opinions on how the disease affected those infected, and with her background in science Chichi held her views to some esteem.

The figure in khaki shorts rolled its black, sunken eyes and released a moan. As quickly as it appeared, 18 raised her bow and took it down. Two more took its place, coming out of the woods and taking a few clunky steps forward. One tripped over the skeleton of the fallen camper, and Bulma raced forward to drive her knife through the back of its neck. Chichi grabbed for her own knife and moved towards the second, but 18 had already taken it out. So instead, Chichi leaned forward and pulled the arrow from its skull. It took a significant effort to retrieve the dart, and Chichi cringed as she freed it in three hard tugs. She handed the arrow over and said,

"We should find some more bows. They don't attract attention the way gunfire does, but you can still keep a safe distance. I hate stabbing these things."

18 nodded. "They're trickier to shoot though. I could teach you, if we were to get our hands on some weapons." It was as good as exchanging friendship bracelets with 18, Chichi decided.

The women finished raiding the campsite and Chichi gathered an armful of wood and they quickly made their way back to the clearing where the others were waiting. All thoughts of warm water and alcohol long forgotten. This was the way things were now, and it didn't even make her that sad. Instead, she helped Raditz start the fire. Goku and Tien returned first, bearing four squirrels. Chichi cringed as they handed them over. Poor dears, she thought; not very much meat and they'd be a bitch to skin. But Goku grinned proudly at her and she couldn't help but offer a shaky smile back. He was cute, after all, and she doubted a nicer man still existed in this world.

A few minutes later, while she was halfway through prepping the second squirrel, Vegeta and Nappa emerged. A buck was slung over the larger man's shoulders, and Bulma raced forward to inspect the animal.

"A deer! Oh, I could kiss you!"

Nappa leaned forward, mouth pulled into a sinister grin, and she scrunched her nose.

"Not you."

Everyone laughed except Vegeta. And Nappa. And 18. Chichi decided they had a lot of humorless people in their group. But it was nice, gathering around the flamelight, eating cooked meat and enjoying Raditz's tales of his army days. They were peppered with colorful language and jabs at Nappa. Vegeta frowned throughout the meal, not looking too thrilled about rehashing his past. After dinner he announced that they would start training.

Chichi frowned. "Training?"

"Yeah. We usually do some sparing, some hand-to-hand combat before bed. It keeps us in shape," Raditz explained. Goku and Tien looked thrilled to join in, but Chichi hung back. She'd been trained by her dad growing up, but it seemed silly to fight when every day was a test of her survival skill. Getting beat up for sport just seemed pointless. There were other ways to waste her energy, so instead she helped Mrs. Brief clean up dinner. Smiling as the older woman watched the young men start their spar.

"Such handsome boys! All of them! We're lucky to be a part of this group."

Chichi looked over. Raditz had taken off his shirt and was stretching. She looked down at the pot she was scrubbing to hide her blush. When she looked back up, Vegeta was talking, goading Nappa who looked ready for a fight. Thankfully both men had kept their shirts on much to Mrs. Brief's disappointment.

Nappa took off towards Vegeta, fists raised. The younger man, however, only smirked, playing defense and easily fending off Nappa's jabs. When Nappa finally managed to land a punch to his jaw, Vegeta staggered back but quickly regained his footing. The sneer of amusement was gone, and Chichi was struck by how malicious Vegeta looked then. With a deep growl, Vegeta bent his leg and kneed Nappa in the gut. The taller man hunched over. From the way he grabbed his middle and wheezed, Chichi figured the blow had knocked the wind right out of him.

Nappa might've had a hundred pounds on him, but Vegeta was obviously the more skilled fighter of the pair. When he looked out to the rest of the group, Vegeta's glare hardened on Goku.

"Well Kakarot," he said, amusement back. Smirk in place. "Are you ready to beg for mercy?"

And Chichi stilled, no longer caring about a bit of burnt deer skin on the cast iron skillet. Goku just grinned and stepped forward, an eager look in his eyes.

At her left, Mrs. Brief giggled. "Let's only hope Goku takes off his shirt, too! That boy is _fit_."

Chichi found herself nodding in agreement. Their training, she decided, wasn't the worst idea afterall. And the shaky alliance they'd built seemed to solidify in the midst of barbaric hand-to-hand combat.


	17. 17 Bulma

17.

**Bulma** was a flirt. She had no problem admitting so. She'd bat her eyes and sway her hips for her own personal gain. If the situation called for it, she wasn't above using her wits (or her rather impressive rack) to get her way. But she didn't play games and she never played hard to get; she didn't "accidentally" run into guys at places she knew they frequented, didn't freak out when more than three days elapsed without a phone call. She thought she was reasonable. She was comfortable with herself and guys seemed to respect that. She'd always considered herself a catch, certainly the kind of girl a guy would fall for without any tricks. But when she needed to get shit done, she'd never been opposed to turning on the charm.

But things were different now. Now, most of the men she ran into wanted to kill her. And when it came to those who weren't reanimated human corpses who wanted to eat the flesh right off her bones, well, she'd never had to try so damn _hard _to get what she wanted. None of the guys were interested in carrying her backpack for her. None of them would massage her feet after a long day. None of them would take her night watch shifts so she could get a precious hour of extra sleep.

And she was tired, dammit. Exhausted. She ran a hand through over the sweat collecting on her forehead and frowned at her dirty palm. It was probably a good thing she hadn't seen her own reflection since they'd left the stone house in Mountain Pass City. But she could see Chichi and Lunch and 18, and she feared the worst.

The longer they walked the more even the ground became. The more open the woods became. And then she saw a filling station and a hamburger chain and then a sign that read Peridot City, 12 miles. Vegeta came to stop and everyone followed suit.

"We're going to need more ammo," he said. It had been discussed in the evenings around the campfire. They had weapons but with each day they ran into Walkers their supply depleted just a little until Bulma's pack was lighter. Until she started relying more heavily on her knife. She knew Vegeta was right. Bastard that he was, he was smart. The coastal cities would be crowded, too crowded to face the hordes of Walkers with knives and swords and one box of ammo. Even if they managed to get cars in Peridot City, they still had 40 miles until the large coastal town of Yahhoy. And they'd most certainly need weapons.

"I've been thinking," she spoke up. All eyes turned to her. Vegeta looked unimpressed. Nappa looked furious.

"What a novel concept. A woman, thinking."

Bulma ignored him. Instead, she looked to Vegeta. "There's a military armory in Peridot City. Assuming it hasn't already been emptied, there's enough artillery and ammunition to last us a year."

Goku's stomach rumbled. Fists shaking at his side, Vegeta announced they would take a break. Instead of ripping into his pack for a stale protein bar the way his men did, Vegeta walked over to where Bulma sat, legs spread out on the grass. They were near the foothills of the mountains, shaded by the edge of trees. The blue haired woman leaned her head back, as though basking in the sun.

He knelt beside her.

"This armory."

She pried open one eye, not surprised to find him there thoroughly invading her personal space.

"Yes?" she asked, because it fun making him talk when it went against his every natural instinct.

"It would make sense that there's a military station in Peridot City. But you're sure it's stocked?"

"Positive."

"It'll be locked."

"Electronically," she added. Patiently, she opened both eyes and began unzipping her pack for lunch. She could feel Nappa's eyes on her, his glare heated at being left out of their conversation. He seemed oddly protective of Vegeta. She wondered if this was the same dynamic the trio had in the years before the turn. "The building has a backup generator though, in case of emergencies. It'll take a few hours to switch on, but once it does I can override the keypad to the armory. And then we can take whatever we can carry."

Vegeta nodded his head, considering her plan. His eyes were dark, black even. When he was done thinking, he looked at her. "How do you know this?"

"Because," Bulma grinned. "I installed the system."

He exhaled through his nose and got to his feet. "That might work."

As he turned his back to her and started walking away, she raised her voice to his retreating figure. "I'm not walking 12 miles."

He paused for a moment, turned to her, glared, and then continued on his way to where Nappa and Raditz stood. Bulma exhaled and went back to enjoying the sunshine. There was so little time to enjoy anything in this world, and she wanted to soak it up. Too long she'd been walking through the mountains, and she could tell they were rapidly approaching the coast.

Vegeta announced that they were heading back to the hamburger chain, and most people grabbed their packs and guns and saddled up without complaint. Goku settled at Bulma's side and asked, "Why are we backtracking?"

"Probably because there're cars back there." And she'd clearly told Vegeta she wasn't interested in walking.

Goku sighed. "It just doesn't feel right, blindly following Vegeta's orders. At the farm house, with Ox, no one was the boss. We made decisions together."

"Vegeta's used to ordering people around. Just indulge him, Goku. If we disagree with the plan at any point, don't worry, I'll speak up. But for now, he's right. We should go back towards the highway stop." Then Bulma looked back to where Chichi was glaring at the back of her head. "What's up with you and Chichi?"

Goku scratched the back of his neck and lowered his voice. "I'm not sure. She gets weird around me sometimes."

"I think she likes you." Bulma grinned. When Goku's face fell she laughed. Loudly.

"Shut up," Vegeta barked from up ahead, not bothering to spare her a glance. "You'll attract all the Walkers within a five mile radius with that shrill voice of yours."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Goku. "She's a nice girl. Cute. Very sweet. If you had any past history to call upon I'd even call her your type."

A small splash of red covered Goku's nose. "I don't know, Bulma. She scares me."

"The good ones are usually a bit frightening." He looked unconvinced at her words. "There aren't a lot of eligible ladies left, Goku. It's not time to be picky."

Goku bit his lips together and decided not to tell Bulma about anything, especially not the fact that he thought he wanted to kiss her just that one time.

After a few minutes of silence, the fast food restaurant came into view and Goku sighed with relief. A small silver sedan sat parked in the parking lot, new despite being coated in a layer of dust. Bulma started towards the car, retrieving her screwdriver from her bag and getting to work. She jammed the flathead into the ignition lock, wiggled it a few times, her tongue darting out one side of her mouth as it was mostly feel and not actual skill at this point. When she succeeded in freeing the knob, she let out a short cheer before thrusting the screwdriver into the slot and starting the engine. The gas tank meter read close to empty, but it would be enough to make it to Peridot City and most of the way back.

When Bulma glanced up, Vegeta was watching her, face even, and she grinned. He obviously refused to be impressed by any of them, least of all her. But she'd manage to convince him. Eventually. Vegeta had all the makings of a challenge and Bulma Brief loved a good challenge.

Because bossing people around was his very favorite thing, Vegeta was telling Nappa and 17 to go further down the road to look for more cars. And then he ordered Kakarot, Raditz and 18 to make a trip to the convenience store to gather whatever supplies they could find.

"Everyone else wait here," Vegeta finished. Bulma wished she could see him in his army days, ordering people about. This was definitely his element. "We'll regroup here. If you're overrun we'll meet back at the foothills of the mountains where we braked for lunch."

"And have… fun," Bulma added, because it seemed a very serious note to leave on. Vegeta slid into the passenger's seat and slammed the door. Then she was next to him, starting down the road, avoiding the occasional Walker. She knew the route to the armory, but a thrumming of panic raced through her at facing the unknown hit her. She inhaled, and glanced at Vegeta from her periphery. He was scowling. Looking out the window. Probably trying his best to pretend she wasn't there.

"How long were you stationed with Raditz?"

He looked over at her and frowned. "A few years."

"A few? More than 5?" When he didn't say anything, she cocked her head to one side. "Less than 5?"

He shot her another thick stare and she sighed. "Fine. You don't want to talk." The outskirts of the city came into view. A few Walkers swiveled in their direction and made pathetic attempts to follow but they were too slow. Bulma drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "What else did you do before the turn, besides the military?"

He didn't move. Didn't glance at her.

"Did you kill people before?"

Silence.

"Is it much different than killing Walkers? Even if both were in self defense, I feel like it'd be different." Bulma turned her head to look at him and nodded. "Okay then Mr. Congeniality. Guess what I did."

"Car mechanic."

A bubble of surprised laughter escaped her. When she was done, she shrugged and said, "Close enough."

He didn't pry. Didn't give any inclination that he cared to hear further. Bulma maneuvered around a half-dozen abandoned vehicles. The tires of the silver sedan crunched dirt. A few Walkers scattered around the wreckage began following her vehicle and the panic was back, tenfold. Now that she was driving off road it wasn't as easy to outrun them. A Walker beat its hand against her windshield. She kept it slow, not wanting to risk putting too much pressure on the gas. A smear of dark blood remained where the Walker had been.

"I have a dual PHD in mechanical engineering and theoretical physics. But car mechanic? I'll take it."

No matter how many degrees she held she would still be a flighty, scatterbrained little woman as far as Vegeta was concerned. A scatterbrained woman who was, however, pretty damn good at lifting cars.

"There are too many," she whispered. "The armory is just a hundred feet that way but we'll never make it on foot."

"Keep going. We can lose this cluster and make a run for the building on foot."

Bulma bit her lip and did as Vegeta instructed. His easy confidence motivating, comforting. She drove through the cluster until the trees flanking the road were too thick.

"Turn the car around."

"What?" she shrieked.

"You're supposed to be the genius here," he growled. "If the car is facing the road it'll be easier to escape."

Oh. Bulma blinked. "Oh!" And then she backed up, hitting Walkers in her wake, and maneuvered the car so it was facing the way they'd come. The Walkers were closing in on them. Smashing their hands against the glass windows and metal frame.

"Wait for my signal," Vegeta said.

She nodded. And then blinked, horror encompassing her features. "Wait for what?"

"To get out of the car."

"We're getting _out_?"

"Hn."

"And… what is the signal anyway?"

"Go," he growled, and then Vegeta threw open his door and raised his rifle and was shooting into the mass of Walkers. Bulma watched, her mouth open as she noted his expert marksmanship. Shaking her head, she quickly raised her shotgun and followed Vegeta down the sidewalk and to the armory.

When Bulma got to the armory - a nondescript building guised as a simple recruiting office - she yanked open the door. Unsurprisingly, it didn't budge. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Vegeta still popping off the Walkers who came near. She turned back and grabbed for the crowbar she kept in her bag. A few pries and she growled in frustration.

"A little help here," she shouted.

Vegeta shoved her out of the way. She turned and raised her gun, taking out the closest Walker. An elderly woman, or what used to be an elderly woman. Now she was nothing, Bulma reminded herself. A corpse who'd caught a virus that had somehow taken control of her brain and was using her. She took out a second one and heard the loud bang of metal scraping metal, and turned to see Vegeta successfully pushing open the armory door. He met her eyes and she jumped through the opening, helping Vegeta through after her and sighing in relief as he pushed the door closed behind them.

There was silence. And it was… dark. Too dark. Bulma shivered and pulled at the stretchy material of camisole. She wore a plaid button-up open over it, but it provided little warmth in the air-tight military building.

"We should've brought more people with us."

"No. More people would slow us down. Prolonged our escape. Now let's go. I'm assuming you know where the generator is?" he asked, lifting a challenging brow. Bulma turned and lead the way. For some reason the ease at which he dealt with these situations, the way he held himself to such esteem, made her want to impress him. Bulma didn't go out of her way to impress people. But Vegeta was the type of bastard who gave his approval with such reserve that she decided wouldn't it be something, if she did manage to impress him.

As she was thinking about gaining his favor, Bulma's foot caught and she fell. "Fuck," she cursed, rubbing her tender palms. She'd caught herself, thankfully, but it hadn't been without consequence. "It's dark."

Vegeta rummaged through his pack and flicked on a flashlight. The beam of yellow light passed over her face before peering out into the empty hallway. "Yes. You're the genius."

She stuck out her tongue and climbed to her feet, but he was in front of her. "The generator's this way," she said and led Vegeta down the dark, winding hallway. There weren't any people. She wondered how quickly Peridot City had fallen to the plague. She thought of her dad in a similarly protected building. Surely it wasn't in this state. Surely it… She inhaled and bent behind the front desk where the backup generator switch was held. She flipped it on and prayed she was correct. Most places with backup generators were set to turn on automatically. Hospitals, for example, would've already exhausted their power in the weeks since the breakout. This place, however, she was confident would still work. A creaking of something was heard overhead and she grinned.

When she glanced up, she saw Vegeta staring into the dark, empty hallway.

"We'll have to wait for it to power up. It'll be an hour, at least. I installed a couple of these systems across the continent, but this one was the only I did in person."

Vegeta was still staring into the empty hallway.

"Hey, look," Bulma said, directing his attention to the counter behind the main desk. "It's a little store."

A few rows of candy bars, bags of chips, and sugary pastries wrapped in plastic stood behind the shelf. Bulma started tossing all of them into her pack. When she came across the cartons of cigarettes she felt like crying.

Vegeta was sat out on the ground. His back resting against the counter, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight in front of him. His gun was draped across his lap. He looked… on guard. The way he looked all the time, really. She'd never seen him relax. Rest. She rummaged through her bag, now delightfully full of snacks, and retrieved her box of matches. Taking a seat across from Vegeta, she ripped open a candy bar and lit one of the cigarettes. It felt a bit like her birthday.

"You're going to die."

She looked up at the sound of Vegeta's voice. Exhaling, she lifted a brow. "Of cancer?"

"It's bad for your health."

"Oh. And you wouldn't do anything to damage your health."

"No. I wouldn't."

Bulma snorted and took another drag. "Really? I seem to remember watching you guys beating the shit out of one another for no reason."

"Sparing?" He looked surprised. Like her question was entirely unwarranted. "Sparing is helpful. Necessary. It keeps us strong, fast. Ready for a fight."

"It keeps you weak and injured when the real enemy is lurking. You gave Goku a black eye. He's one of the best Walker killers out there, and now he's got a weakness."

The lights start coming on. Humming to life one by one. The hallway illuminated little by little, until they were swarmed with artificial light. Bulma squinted. It was too much. She wasn't used to it and, frankly, didn't appreciate it all that much.

This place was oddly untouched. The shelves were unturned, trash still stacked in wastebaskets. Every house and business they'd come across had some matter of looting, of struggle. But this place was… calm.

She snubbed out her cigarette on the ground and hopped to her feet. Vegeta followed behind her, and sensing the strange state of array around them, his gun hung at his side. Bulma led the way to the armory and grinned when the familiar door alarm came into view. All she'd need was her small phillips head, and they'd be in business.

It was slightly unnerving, the way Vegeta stood nearby, watching her. Well, she decided, she'd wanted a reason to impress him. So she opened the panel and unscrewed the metal clasps holding two of the wires in place. She remembered designing the circuitry, and although it was simple enough it took a good deal of concentration.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, surprising her. With a frown, she narrowed her brows and tried to concentrate.

"I'd explain it to you, but I'm fresh out of crayons."

He didn't press further, but she could feel his impatience. After a long silence stretched between them, Bulma watched as the red lights began to flash green. "Aha," she grinned, stepping back. The door began to slide and before it was halfway open the pair had stepped through the armory.

No. Finding a cigarette hadn't been the highlight of her day. _This _was like her birthday.

"Remind me to thank you when we get out of this," Vegeta said.

Bulma grinned, watching as he took stock of the wall of semiautomatic rifles and handguns. The shelves of boxed ammo. Of bulletproof vests and neatly folded duffle bags. "Oh," she replied. "I won't let any of you forget."

He chuckled dryly and then tossed her one of the black bags. She stuffed it to the brim with handguns and .40 caliber ammo. In the second bag, she concentrated on getting vests for everyone in their party while Vegeta seemed to bent on the larger rifles, magazine clips and enough ammunition to take down a small army. When she picked up the two bags, she grunted.

"They're too heavy."

"Take one," he grunted, picking up her second bag and tossing it easily over his shoulder. Then he led the way down the corridor, and she knew she shouldn't have been surprised to see the small horde of Walkers waiting by the door. Between their commotion getting into the place and the noise the generator had made, she felt foolish not realizing they would be waiting for her.

"There are at least fifty," she whispered.

Vegeta nodded, his gaze firm on the crowd. "We can make it," he said, and she looked away because she knew he'd said it for her benefit. Once again she wondered what it was like for him before all of this. She wondered if he had a family, friends. Or if he kept to himself, ordering around his colleagues and not seeing much of worth outside his military career. She'd put all her chips on the latter, judging by the calculated manner he pointed to the car and said,

"Keep close. We'll need those handguns."

And then he'd opened the door and was shooting into the swarm like a hero from an action flick. She watched as they dropped before they could get too close. When Vegeta reached for a second clip, she raised a pistol and shot into the crowd. Her aim was off by almost two feet. She cringed; there were a few rounds of target practice in her future. These bullets were far less forgiving than her familiar shotgun shells.

A large male Walker got close and she raised her weapon, squinted one eye and prayed. Vegeta, however, was on him, kicking him backwards and driving the butt of his gun into its head, over and over. Blood splattered across his chest and face, and he gave a sinister grin.

She felt herself taking a step back, and when Vegeta glanced up he didn't bother to wipe away any of the grime. Preferring not to dignify his actions with commentary, she raised her pistol and looked ahead to where ten more Walkers were heading their way.

"Move," Vegeta commanded.

And so, following the cleared path towards the car, Bulma ran. Her lungs burned and her vision blurred; she yanked open the drivers side door and started the engine. Vegeta was only a few seconds behind, and before he'd collided with the seat she was off.

A few Walkers followed, but once they were on the road they were nothing but specks in her rear-view. She switched on the wipers to clear some of the blood but it only smeared the dark liquid. At her right, Vegeta unzipped one of the duffles and grinned down at their takings. Bulma looked inside at the boxes and boxes of ammo, and she laughed.

Her hands shaking, her heart pounding against her rib cage, she pressed harder on the pedal than was necessary. But for the first time since she'd left Ox's farm house, she felt… safe.

Maybe the man beside her was a bit of a sick fuck who took a small amount of pleasure in killing, but he was good at it. And if she had her choice between someone moral and someone capable, well, she was glad she didn't have to choose just then.

Because right now, she'd take four duffle bags of guns and ammunition and a satchel filled with cigarettes and candy bars and, maybe, when they got to Kame House she could decide if Vegeta was good person. In the meantime, she had to get there, alive, and Vegeta seemed her best bet.

.

Ding-ding-ding! Spellweaver10 gets all the points for guessing that this chapter would be in Bulma's POV. Whoooo is next?

Thanks a million for all of your lovely reviews for Chapter 16. I know I cranked this one out too quickly, so if you see any mistakes feel free to point them out and I'll fix them. Any other comments, suggestions, or constructive bits - I'd love to hear those as well!


	18. 18 Krillin

18.

**The** water was calm. Still. Cerulean and silver where the sunlight danced on its surface. Krillin tried to look forward to where the land lay, but all he could see was ocean in every direction. Near Kame House there were small clusters of other islands, but now that they were bound for the continent he knew he wouldn't see land again until they got there.

The little motor thrummed as Yamcha steered. Yajirobe stood at the ship's stern. Crossing him arms and looking back towards the safety of the island, still pouting.

Krillin opened his mouth to say something comforting. Something to tie the trio together, something to get Yajirobe a bit more eager to help but… No. He wasn't Goku. He didn't come preloaded with speeches to rally the masses. He was strong, yes, and loyal, but he wasn't exactly fit to be an inspiring leader. He'd always thought of himself as a perfectly capable sidekick. He looked to Yamcha and exhaled. Getting Yajirobe on board would just have to fall to him.

Yamcha continued to guide the boat north towards the coast. It seemed to take forever even though Krillin was aware it was a relatively short trip. An hour, two tops. It was just that there wasn't any of the joviality that usually accompanied the trips to and from Kame House.

When the shore came into view, all three members straightened. Even Yajirobe who'd spent the entirety of the trip calculatingly quiet. The sound of the boat or the scent of living flesh must've roused them, because there was a cluster of the undead waiting near the docks. Some fell clumsily into the water, grasping with unseeing hands towards the boat. Krillin felt a shiver betray his tough exterior as one of the hands scraped the bottom of the boat. When he looked to Yamcha, the other man had a frown encompassing his features.

It worse worse than he'd thought. Since the moment the TV broadcasts had stopped, he'd conjured many a daydream about what life outside the island had gone to. But this was worse.

Much, much worse.

The undead were horrific looking, really. They looked more like corpses than men with their rotting flesh and visible bones. Their faces ghastly, black black eyes and snapping teeth.

"There are so many of them," Krillin whispered, his focus on the docks crowded with the undead. Every inch of visible space was taken and his mind whirled. How would they ever step foot on land? He looked down to the pair of weapons in either hand. The sai had made him feel like stealth ninja earlier that day, but now he felt like a child facing an army.

A terrifying army who would… What? Kill him? Eat him? Rip him to pieces?

Kirllin swallowed. Hard.

"Guys," he said, voice barely rising above the moaning and snarling figures on the docks. "We need a plan."

Yamcha kept one hand on the steering wheel and grabbed for the bo staff on his back. "We'll park it, and swim over there," he said, pointing to the sandy shore a few yards east of the docks. The horde was thinner there. "Then we run as fast as we can to that building. We close the doors behind us, take out any of these things that are inside, catch our breath and go from there."

Krillin gripped his weapons and nodded in agreement. It was a shaky plan at best. But a shaky plan was better than no plan at all. And it certainly beat trying to make their way through the thicket waiting on the docks.

As the boat slowed towards the shore, Yamcha nodded and whispered, "Now."

The three men jumped ship, Yamcha and Krillin taking to the east side of the boat while Yajirobe took to the west side and screamed.

"Fuck. This water's cold!" he shouted, craning his neck so it kept above water. His glare was back, but his companions were swimming to the little clearing, away from the docks and the fate that awaited them there. Yajirobe lingered, grasping for his sword as a few of the undead took their chances in the water. "Wait!" he commanded, and though Yamcha pressed forward, Krillin turned back and froze.

In place of where Yajirobe had been the clear blue water was stained red. The pool of crimson slowly spreading. Krillin felt his gut wrench. "No," he heard himself saying, felt his mouth opening and closing but no other sound followed.

"Krillin," a voice called ahead. "Let's go."

Shaking his head, Krillin turned and paddled as quickly as his limited limbs allowed. He ran the last bit against the shallow current and pulled himself on shore. Two of the undead were headed their way, but Yamcha took them out with the blade on the end of his bo staff. The news reports instructed taking out the brain, and Yamcha had obviously been paying attention.

Krillin followed Yamcha towards the tall building looming in the distance. Briefly he wondered if it would be smarter to pick someplace else. Somewhere a bit more nondescript. Maybe something smaller, less _things_ inside.

"Shit," Yamcha cursed. Because Krillin knew, they were going to meet the same fate as Yajirobe. They should've stayed to starve on the island. Maybe given fishing another shot. Maybe started scavenging on one of the surrounding islands. Maybe looked for nuts or fruit or...

Krillin stood with his back to Yamcha, raising his weapons while Yamcha wielded the bo staff. Three approached, and he stabbed the first two with his right sai, then the third with his left. They were slower and weaker than he'd first thought. A small comfort, since there were at least four dozen more approaching.

His deft fingers slipped into his pocket and grasped the three throwing stars Roshi had given him. He tossed one into an approaching corpse, watching as it stuck in its neck. A bit of black blood pooled but the corpse didn't stumble. Didn't let up. It was like they felt no pain, saw nothing but the possible food ahead.

He took hold of the next star, but before he could toss it the corpse fell and the sound of gunshots ensued. When he looked up a tall figure with a rifle stood. _Bang_. Krillin's ears rang. _Bang_. Two more walkers fell. _Bang_. Another. Yamcha turned, his eyes wide.

"Come with me," the stranger shouted. And since it was that or die, Krillin and Yamcha raced towards the man. "Stay close," he said, his gun clearing the path. Away from the beach and buildings and into a small wooded area towards the outskirts of the city.

Krillin ran as fast as he could, wondering if it was wise to put all his trust in this strange, green man with loose, black trousers, worn boots, and a oversized linen shirt with buttons undone at the collar. His head was wrapped in a turban and the sword strapped to his back glimmered in the sun.

The stranger slowed, and when Krillin turned back from where they'd come he sighed in relief. They'd lost the horde, and the stillness of the forest made him aware of how his lungs were burning. Krillin considered himself a good athlete, but he'd never faced a threat so… threatening.

"Smart," Yamcha commented, and the stranger only nodded. Krillin looked to the fence Yamcha was inspecting. It was a simple barbed wire fence with three rows of the knotted wire. Every few feet a pair of pots or tin cans hung. Krillin nodded in agreement. If any corpses found their way to the camp they'd certainly make a ruckus trying to get through.

The stranger took one long, green hand and opened a nondescript gate, allowing them in. The pots swung and two men leaped from the trees.

"Shit. Piccolo. We weren't expecting you back so soon," one of them said, lowering his handgun and smiling slightly. The second man kept his gun raised, pointing at Yamcha's skull.

"You brought back strangers."

"They came on a boat, without any weapons."

The second man sneered. "Looks like they have weapons to me."

"No _real _weapons," the one they'd called Piccolo replied. "I don't have to explain anything to you, Nail." Then to Yamcha and Krillin he said, "Follow me."

Dutifully, the pair followed. The splattering of trees weren't as wide here, letting slits of warm sunlight through. A few solar panels sat in the sun, along with a garden bearing ripe red tomatoes and the leafy green tops of carrots. If Krillin could look further, he figured he'd probably discover more. However, he followed Piccolo into one of the canvas tents, where a large man stood reading to a small child who sat cross legged on the floor. When the tent flap opened, both turned towards the newcomers.

"I found these two. They lost a friend, and were on their last leg themselves."

The larger man smiled. A warm, friendly smile that made Krillin want to trust him. Even if it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do.

"That was very compassionate of you, Piccolo," he said. "I'm Guru, and this is my camp. We don't let outsiders stay. They can't be… trusted. However, I'll have young Dende here take you to the medic tent, tend to your wounds. You are welcome to join us for dinner and stay for the night. We'll see you out in the morning."

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a look. Maybe they'd even give them some seeds. Farming was sustainable, maybe not practical on their little island, but it was better than nothing. Certainly better than what awaited them back at the docks.

Yamcha grinned, finding trust in the group's leader too. "Thank you."


	19. 19 Chichi

19.

"**Gas**!" Chichi cheered from the kitchen. She'd switched on the burner and a small blue flame came to life. "This place has gas!"

"If I'd've known you were so excited about gas, I would've let you follow Nappa down the road," Raditz said. Chichi ignored him in favor of scouring the kitchen for pots and pans. Lunch and Tien had gone to fetch water, and when Bulma mentioned the propane tank in the yard thoughts of cooking in a real, honest kitchen had made Chichi's fingers itch. Mrs. Brief cheered behind her.

"Finally! I'm so tired to bending over a camp fire."

"I'm not tired of you bending over anything," Nappa said into the woman's ear, loudly enough so everyone in the kitchen could hear.

Even though Mrs. Breif gave a girlish giggle and flushed, Bulma hit the man on the back of his bald head.

"Cut it out, Nappa," she said through her teeth. Everyone around them ignored the pair. Her mother was opening and closing cupboards, Radtiz was rifling through the pantry, and Chichi pulled out a shiny copper pot from a cupboard and grinned.

"Finally surrounded by women and I _still _can't get my dick wet," Nappa grumbled, to which Bulma tried to whack him a second time but, being prepared, he ducked out. Instead, Bulma said with a saccharine laced tone,

"So charming. I can't imagine why you'd have any trouble finding someone."

The door to the kitchen opened and Vegeta walked in. Bulma grinned at him and he frowned. She winked and he looked away. And Chichi blinked because it looked like Vegeta was… blushing. And as much as she'd love Bulma to have someone other than Goku to pine after, well, it still made her about uncomfortable. Vegeta was _scary_.

"Nappa, Radtiz," he barked. "Let's go."

The three men left without question, leaving Chichi alone with the Breifs. Mrs. Brief started rifling through the spice cabinet. Not much was left, but they couldn't afford to be picky. Whatever spices she'd use would make for a more appetizing dinner given that the three men would probably come back with more wild game. Chichi wished they could find a farm with a pig or chicken, but they hadn't come across anything like that since leaving her house weeks ago.

"Bulma," she whispered. "I saw that. The way you looked at Vegeta…"

Bulma laughed and gave an easy shrug. "What? He's sexy. A woman has needs, you know."

Chichi exhalled. Yes. She was well aware of that particular deficiency.

"I know there are other things to worry about Chi, but we can't all be robots like 18."

"I guess." And then she set the copper pot down on the stove and worried her lower lip with her teeth. "I won't judge you."

"Oh, judge away. I don't care."

Chichi gripped the copper handle and shook her head. Bulma was far from apologetic, and she had to respect her for it. They all had jobs to do, parts to play. Bulma came with a lot of smarts, and she'd helped them gather weapons and ammo and kept their water filters up to date, but she wasn't as strong as Chichi. She wasn't as good a shot as Lunch. But she knew her worth and she didn't seem to feel the need to fight for her place in this world.

Mrs. Brief started up the flame and splashed some cooking oil onto a stainless pan. She hummed to herself a ballad about lovers in the night, soft and off-tune.

"I'll go see if there's anything left in the garden," Chichi said, and as she made her way outside in the afternoon sun, she inhaled the scent of dew and grass. Goku and Chiaotzu were already in the garden, laughing like a pair of young boys.

Goku stopped and waved.

"Hey," she replied.

"Chichi!" Chiaotzu sang. "We found carrots and potatoes!"

"That's great! Take those in for Mrs. Brief." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Chichi watched as the boy took off running with the canvas bag stuffed to the brim with vegetables. It smacked his stubby legs as he ran up the porch steps.

Chichi turned and remembered she was alone with Goku. And she blushed.

"Hi."

An affable grin spread across his features. "Hey Chichi. Chiaotzu and I think we spotted a strawberry bush in the forrest. I have another bag we could fill. Maybe Mrs. Brief could make one of her famous strawberry tarts. They're Bulma's favorite."

Ignoring the spark of envy that came at his knowledge of Bulma's favorite anything, Chichi asked him to lead the way. And though it was only a short trek through the yard and into the woods, Goku filled the space with talk of sparring with the guys and eating potatoes with whatever his brother found in the woods and of how he and Chiaotzu were hoping to find some time at the island to go fishing.

Chichi nodded along until they made it to the bushes and, with a grin, she confirmed that they were indeed strawberries. They mightn't have been her favorite, but it would be a fabulous break from protein bars. She'd eaten through her stash of peanut butter chocolate chip and all she had left were banana flavored.

Goku opened the canvas bag and the pair started picking. Given a task, Goku was much quieter and the pair moved in comfortable silence. Chichi snuck the occasional glance, but she kept all thoughts to herself because it didn't seem like the time just yet.

Then they heard a gaggle of masculine voices in the distance. She grabbed for her handgun but Goku lifted one finger to his mouth - the universal signal for quiet - and held out his other hand. She took it, and even though he was pulling her behind the strawberry bushes from possible harm, all she could think about was the way his hand felt holding hers. Big and strong and rough and solid. A girlish trill shot straight to her ovaries and she hoped Goku would mistake her flush for fear.

What kind of girl got all hot thanks to a little hand holding?

The voices approached, loud and unabashed, and Chichi recognized the first as Nappa's.

"There are too many of us, Vegeta. We need to cut the ones who will slow us down."

Chichi pulled some of the leaves back so she could see the trio approaching. In the center stood Vegeta, stoic and sinister. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyebrows always seemed narrowed in a look of displeasure. Maybe all those years of being unhappy really had made his face stick like that.

Flanked by the two taller men, Chichi would've thought they were his bodyguards if she hadn't seen him in action first hand. He was a best shot of the three, and when they sparred in the evening neither man posed a challenge. In fact, the only member of their group who seemed to rival him in strength was hiding beside her.

"The blue haired bitch doesn't even help cook," Nappa fumed.

Vegeta's features remained even. "She's useful."

"She's-"

"This isn't up for discussion."

Chichi turned to Goku, and was caught off guard by the serious look on his features. He was usually so carefree. But Chichi didn't miss the implications of Nappa's words. He didn't trust them, didn't see them as one cohesive group. She'd be a fool if there weren't members she'd trusted more, but…

Maybe Nappa was just unhappy because Bulma kept fending off his advances. Chichi couldn't remember her own mom, but she figured if she was still around, she wouldn't want her mom flirting with someone like Nappa.

"Now let's go, find some Walkers and blow off some steam," Vegeta said, and it made a shiver race down her spine. Chichi couldn't imagine enjoying killing anything, but this trio, they used fighting as a release.

And, yes, her new group was all kinds of uncivilized, but it felt as much like civilization as they might ever get.

She nudged Goku with her shoulder.

"Bulma will be alright. Vegeta needs her, he's smart enough to realize how important she is."

Goku frowned, and though he smiled it didn't quite reach his eyes.


	20. 20 18

20.

**The **worst part wasn't risking her life. It wasn't even being stuck in the woods with Raditz. No, the worst part was leaving her brother back at the safehouse, alone. 18 had never been a people person, but 17 was a recluse. He didn't make a lot of friends before the turn, and now with the way things were he went out of his way to avoid people.

And though she loathed to admit it, having numbers was a good thing. Their father would've told them to stay in pairs. To go at it alone, minimal supplies and easier escapes. However, the more time she spent around the group, the more confident she was that numbers weren't a bad thing. In fact, she'd even managed a good sleep because some nights she didn't have to take a watch shift.

Raditz barrelled alongside her, crunching through the thickest path of trees and noisily hacking the low-hanging branches in his wake. It was like he wanted every Walker in the vicinity to find them. Like he wanted a fight.

"Be quiet," she snapped.

Raditz turned, frowned, and kept at it. Loud. Uncaring. Like he'd volunteered to go with her to scour a nearby farm just to piss her off.

And maybe he had, so the smartest thing would be to remain unaffected. Men were so childish sometimes. She frowned and kept on walking forward, her steps as careful as they were quiet.

Another mile and they saw the squat little house Bulma had told them about. She'd pointed at her map and instructed them what to look for. Lunch requested toilet paper, Chichi wanted mint toothpaste, and everyone needed food.

18 inhaled. The house was a two story with chipped gray siding and square windows.

Broken windows.

"Shit," Radtiz mumbled. "Well this was a waste of time."

"Maybe," she agreed, hoisting her bow up over her shoulder. "But we came all this way. Might as well take a look."

Raditz lead the way to the little house, opened the door and banged three times against the wall. When nothing inside stirred, he stepped inside and made a face. Two dead Walkers lay face-down on the floor. Their bones visible beneath yellowed, paper-thin flesh. Dried blood pooled around their heads. 18 had gotten used to the sight, it was the smell that had her cringing.

They went into the kitchen first, but all the cabinets were open haphazardly. The room in a general state of disarray.

"It's been picked through."

18 rolled her eyes and peered into an empty cabinet. "Look anyway."

When the kitchen proved a lost cause, they moved upstairs. They found three rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom cupboard and 18 stuffed them into her bag. There were no toiletries left, so Chichi would have to suffer through another few days of orange flavored toothpaste. When they moved into the bedroom, they found a few shirts hanging in the closet. Raditz stashed them in his pack until he came to a sparkly red nightie. Raising a brow at 18, she frowned and jammed a handful of underwear in her backpack. She hated wearing other people's things, but it had been weeks since they'd come across a store where new, unworn items were stashed. For now, this would have to do. Mrs. Brief was good at washing, and underwear were the least of her problems.

"Think Goku and that Asian chick are banging?"

18 froze, her hand hovering over a neatly folded stack of bras. "Do you really want to gossip right now?"

He shrugged. "Nothing else to do. Unless, you're up for something else." His eyebrows waggled in a way she suspected was meant to be sexy. She dropped her gaze from his subpar brows to his lips. They were pouty actually, not a bad mouth for kissing.

She allowed her eyes to trail further south, to his big shoulders and muscular arms. His entire frame was rather impressive. As a package, he wasn't bad looking. He wouldn't be her first choice, especially considering his personality. Goku was more handsome. Vegeta more tempting with his dark eyes and dominant nature. She didn't even mind that she was taller than him. There was something about shorter guys - they made her feel powerful.

But Raditz towered over her and, sure, she liked that too.

"Fine," 18 said, yanking at the hem of her tanktop and pulling it over her head. Then she placed both hands on her bare hips. Raditz was frozen. Mouth agape, eyes wide. "Well?"

"You're… serious?"

"You weren't? See, I seem to remember you propositioning me. Were you joking?"

"No. No." And Radtiz was shaking his head as fast as his hands were undoing his fly. "I'm just… surprised."

18 watched him undress. His torso was thick with muscle. It rippled with each jerky movement it took to get his pants off. She almost laughed as he stood there, straining boxer briefs a size too small for him, a red garter hugging one of his bulging thighs, and finally a pair of mismatched tube socks on his feet.

All in all, not bad. 18 grinned.

"Why?" he asked, looking unsure despite his earlier bravado.

"I have needs too, you know." She shrugged and wove the button to her jeans through the hole not bothering to look at him. "Plus, if you tell anyone at camp I'll deny it, and they'll believe me."

Raditz rolled his eyes, watching as she shimmied out of her pants. "Don't give a fuck who knows, just want to get some."

"Keep the romantic talk to yourself," she laughed. He smirked, running a big hand through some of her blonde hair.

"I'll try," he whispered, and then kissed her hard on the mouth. When he hoisted her up against the wall and her head collided with the plaster, he didn't bother to apologize.

It turned out making a run with her hadn't been such a waste afterall.


	21. Yamcha

21.

**At **his side, Krillin was shaking hands with the men who had invited them into their camp only to kick them out first thing that morning.

Outsiders, apparently, weren't to be trusted.

Piccolo handed over their confiscated weapons and Guru clamped a meaty hand on Krillin's shoulder. Yamcha stood at Krillin's side, spine straight and expression even. As much as he didn't like the strangers for forcing them out at dawn, he and Krillin had come to the mainland for food and Guru & Co. had been unprecedentedly generous. His bag was filled with seeds and saplings, a fishing line, hooks, and two nets.

The little boy who'd helped bandage them up came running to say goodbye. With a big smile, Dende handed over a little white chicken. Krillin blinked as he accepted the animal.

"Uh," he said, staring at the frightening little bird. It flapped it's wings in his arms. "Thank you."

"Find a boat as quickly as possible," Guru advised. At his right Nail, the tallest, most boorish of the group exhaled.

"And stear clear of the main roads. That's where the Red Ribbon Army tends to scout."

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a look. The bird squawked in Krillin's grasp, and he wrestled the animal feeling a bit like a crocodile handler. Even though the bird weighed only six pounds.

"The army? Isn't that a good thing?" Yamcha asked, ignoring the chicken-wrangling.

"No. They aren't associated with King Furry's army. They're a band of criminals who've taken advantage of the way things are now. They'd imprison you for your seeds, and kill you for that chicken."

Krillin thought about handing the animal over, make it all a bit easier because he didn't know the first thing about chickens anyhow, but Dende grinned at him and the bird gave another call, and so Krillin held onto the bird and offered a timid smile.

"Thank you all. For everything."

Without any further fanfare Piccolo showed them out, leading the way through camp. They walked up hill to where the barbed wire fence drew a square around the camp, pots and pans and ladles and spoons dangling. There was a slight breeze but nothing strong enough to make noise. The reanimated dead, however, would certainly tip them off.

"Take care," Piccolo said, and he held the fence as the two men ducked beneath the barbs. Krillin waved before cutting a path just south of the main road. He didn't know much about what the Red Ribbon Army might be like, but he'd bet his life that no other group they might run into would be as affable as Piccolo's.

Yamcha kept pace beside him. He wished they had a map, because using only the sun as reference he was ninety-percent sure they were heading in the wrong direction. He'd spent a good deal of his youth hanging out in the desert with no maps or clocks, but he'd left all that when he'd met Goku and Bulma. Since then he'd gotten… soft. He thought of his ex-girlfriend and smiled, because he knew without a doubt Bulma was fine out there. Somewhere. Between her smarts and resourcefulness, she would be fine. Maybe she'd even forgiven him for his last transgression and was out there looking for him. Looking for the island. Hope spread warmth through his chest. Krillin's chicken cawed and broke him from his daze.

"You okay?" Krillin asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking about Bulma." And because that sounded a bit pathetic, he added, "And Goku. Our friends, just wondering how they're doing out there."

Krillin frowned. He didn't like to think of the people he knew. The odds weren't good, especially for people who made as much noise as Bulma and Goku.

"We're going in the wrong direction," Yamcha commented. The only sound that betrayed the silence was the clump-clump-clumping of their shoes on packed earth. Even the bird had gone still, nestled in the crook of Krillin's arm.

"The outlying towns will be less crowded. Once we have a boat we can head back that way."

"That makes sense. And-"

Yamcha's voice fell as a figure of a woman exited the woods. Blue hair flying behind her head, little red dress climbing up her slender thighs. Her cheeks were red with exhaustion, her hands windmilling circles to right her stumbling balance on four-inch heels.

Both men just stood, watching the scene with mouths agape until six walking corpses followed from the very clearing. Lumbering forward, the half-dozen figures followed the ridiculous woman, slowly gaining ground.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"

Krillin raced forward first, getting close enough to lure a pair of corpses away from the screeching female. The first had graying skin hanging limp from its face. It moaned and lept forward. Forked _said _in one hand, chicken in the other, Krillin drove the spike through its brain. The second walking corpse stumbled over its counterpart's body, and Krillin took it out easily enough. They were slow, not posing much of a threat to his years of martial arts experience. Really his only disadvantage was his height as it made it a touch difficult to get at their brains. But if he could get them to lose their footing...

When he looked over, Yamcha had succeeded in taking out the four remaining corpses and was standing stiff in the embrace of the woman. She sobbed into his chest, blubbering skirt had ridden up to expose that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Krillin blushed and look away.

Prying her away so she stood at arm's length, Yamcha asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She sniffled. "I got away from some of those icky Red Ribbon men, but then these monsters started chasing me. I hate them. They're so gross." And then an idiotic grin betrayed her features and she fluffed some of her tangled, blue hair. "And then you boys saved me."

"Er, yes," Krillin conceded. The chicken squawked.

"I'm Maron," she said. And thankyoukami she pulled at the hem of her skirt. It wasn't decent, but at least her plump little backside was hidden from his view. Roshi wouldn't care about food if he came back with her.

"I'm Yamcha, and this is Krillin. The Red Ribbon men, are they close?"

"Yes." She pouted. "I was with a group a few days ago near East City. We were having a good go at things. The boys put up some walls and the biters couldn't get in. Those things _eat _people. It's disgusting."

Yamcha nodded patiently.

"Well," Maron continued. "Then the Red Ribbon Army showed up and eliminated our camp. They kept me alive though. They wanted to take me with them, but I'm not a slave. I'm a _model_."

"Ah," Krillin offered. Of all the professions ill suited for this world, that might take the cake. "Stay with us. We have a safe place."

"Oh! Goody! I'm so lucky! You boys are cute."

Yamcha smiled kindly and Krillin didn't know where to look so he concentrated on her eyes. Maron winked and he felt himself flush. The chicken wiggled in his arms.

"Alright. Let's move."

The reanimated corpses seemed easy enough to kill, as long as they weren't in groups like they'd been in the coastal city of Yahhoy. However, they weren't the only threat. Sometimes the living were far scarier than the dead.

….

GUYYYYYYS. Stupidoomdoodles is doing a zombie apocalypse AU. She's done a few images of Bulma and Vegeta, and I've made one of the photos the cover for this story because it's freakin' awesome. There's a link to her tumblr on my profile to see the rest, (but you've already been there because it's GENIUS). But go and look and ask nicely for more. Kidding. Mostly.

Finally. WD fans:

CAROL. What are you wearing?


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